


Ebb Tide

by CeridwenofWales



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Developing Relationship, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Selkie - Freeform, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, dubcon, human x selkie, mysterious woman - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-01-17 22:50:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12375771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CeridwenofWales/pseuds/CeridwenofWales
Summary: Ivar is washing his bloody face on a lake after another successful raid when something captures his attention.





	1. Unexpected Treasure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lauredessine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauredessine/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Lurking in the abyss](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12129066) by [Lauredessine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauredessine/pseuds/Lauredessine). 



> Laure inspired me to write this after her story with Ivar and Morven. Thank you so much, my little scorpion. ^^

 

* * *

 

 

Ivar was laying on his stomach by the shore, washing his face covered in dried blood. Once more he had achieved victory. He has proven himself before his brothers, his men and more important: The Gods.

 

The cries of battle had died and Ivar could only hear his own fast and shallow breath. Suddenly, something else attracted his attention. The sound of splashing water cracking the deathly silence he imposed upon this land. His hand moved to his axe in a reflex to fight a threat.

 

On the other side of the river, he saw something that looked unreal. A maiden was bathing and unaware of the danger around her, innocent of the stink of death that penetrated Ivar's skin. He couldn't avert his eyes from the scene. Eyes closed, she was massaging her hair as dark as a night without stars. Even at distance, her expression seemed one of pleasure. He imagined the drops of water sliding over her skin, an ochre color, much like the mellow-brown light that bathed the forest. Ivar was mesmerized imagining the water drops making their way from her succulent breasts, to her stomach and the mysterious place he wanted to fill between her legs. She was glowing under the sunset's golden light.

 

Ivar asked himself if his father's men felt the same way when they saw Aslaug, his mother, bathing. It should be something about the innocence of the action, the women being ignorant of how men were affected by them. The naturality of the gestures meant to clean the body and not for seduction. Ivar decided that watching a woman bathing was the closest of her truth any man could reach.

 

_Are her eyes as dark as obsidian?_

 

As a prey feeling it's been hunted, she noticed him. Ivar grinned expecting her to scream and run. instead, she dove into the water to hide from his ravenous stare, only her eyes were out of the water and she kept looking at him. Ivar sighed in frustration because he wished he could swim to come closer to her and uncover her secrets. She looked frightened, but her gaze was beckoning him in. If it was not for Ubbe interrupting, Ivar would sink into the dark depths of the lake.

 

“Ivar? Have you finished? We need to go.” Ubbe tried to attract Ivar’s attention without success.

 

“Ivar? What are you looking at?” Hearing Ubbe’s question Ivar sighed with his cheeks flushed crimson in anger.

 

“Nothing! We should go then. I want to attack the next village as soon as possible.” Ivar lied, not wanting to attract Ubbe’s attention to his woman. He didn’t even know what or who she was, but Ivar was feeling possessive already.

 

“Why? Our men must rest.” Ubbe’s hissed staring at Ivar slack-mouthed, not quite believing his brother’s words.

 

“I’m sure we will see something interesting in the next village. Tell the men not to take or harm the women before I can lay my eyes on them.” Ivar was breathing heavily and Ubbe shook his head in disagreement.

 

“Ivar! You know I don’t like this.” Ubbe tilted his head glaring at Ivar.

 

“Liking it or not, you will follow my command,” Ivar shouted slamming his fist on the ground splashing mud on his face.

 

Ubbe started walking away and Ivar looked at the lake once more before crawling away. For his disappointment, his beauty was gone. He bared his teeth in a feral smile.

 

_I will found you in the next village, my dearest._


	2. The Search

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The vision of that woman bathing doesn't leave Ivar's mind and he will search for her, unaware that she felt something for him as well.

 

* * *

 

 

Her sisters were right! She should have visited this lake before. The visage of the lake was veneer-clear and tranquil, flanked by an avenue of cedar trees. The sunset threatening to dip behind the horizon, firstly cascading a prim bombardment of colors that were flung over the sky with terrible alacrity. The retreating blue and oranges battled the blackness pushing it away. It shone on the surface of the lake, but its depths remained in the darkness.

 

The hollowness of the place magnified all sounds, from burbling streams to the buzzing of the bees. She could sleep there easily. She chuckled at the thought, remembering all the times her sisters said she would be caught by a man while sleeping. But she pushed those worries aside while her fingers were running through her hair and sending delightful goosebumps down her spine. Or was it a sensation she was being spied on? Fionnuala opened her eyes slowly and found a man watching her.

 

_What happens to those men that they like to watch others?_

 

She wanted him to look away, so she could disappear. But, at the same time, something in the way he was looking at her held Fionnuala in place. The only thing she could do was to hide in the water.

 

His lips were forming a smile that looked like he would attack her at any moment. She was just being cautious to watch his moves, Fionnuala thought to herself. She saw the blood on his face and felt pity and an urge to swim to him and touch him. The well-defined jaw, furrowed brows, full lips…

 

A second man arrived and was trying to attract his attention, but his gaze kept disturbing her. Fionnuala wished he would go with that man and leave her alone, and feared he would. She wanted to know more about him.

 

At last, he adverted his glance from her.

 

_I am free!_

 

She smiled and couldn't be more mistaken. His icy blue eyes kept haunting her until she made a decision. She would follow him to discover more. For the first time, the sharp sight that allowed her to hunt was her weakness. Fionnuala wished she hasn't seen his eyes at distance.

 

_It's just curiosity! Once I find out he is just a common man, I will be satisfied._

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ivar and his men entered the next village spreading terror and the smell of carnage could be sensed from miles away. The vicious scent reached Fionnuala’s nostrils and she started crying.

 

_Why? Those people did nothing against him. Why is he hurting them? Why do men feel like they must do this? Is this a way to deal with some aching?_

 

She noticed they were searching for shiny things.

 

 _Oh! They need those beautiful things to survive._ It was not strange for her. Fionnuala knew some beings that believed, or thought, they needed gold to live.

 

“I can bring those things to him, so he will not need to hurt those people.” Fionnuala smiled sadly, thinking she had found a solution to prevent the despicable scene in front of her to happen again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He watched from his chariot while his men spread terror in this village. His hands were sweating and shaking in anticipation. He wondered if adrenaline coursing through his veins would be less painful if he could search for her by himself instead of waiting for the battle to be over. Not that those villagers offered a challenge to his well-trained warriors. He grinned, hearing the cheerful shouts that any resistance has been smashed.

 

As he ordered, all women were chained and waiting in line to be inspected by him. Ivar started crawling to them, feeling the tightening in his groin and a smirk on his lips that soon disappeared.

 

His eyes followed every face in vain. None of them looked slightly like his woman. He grunted and Ubbe felt his heart beating fast for he was aware of what this meant. Those women would suffer because of Ivar's frustration. Even though Ubbe knew nothing about his obsession.

 

Their screams did not reach Fionnuala’s ears as she was away, searching for treasures that she believed could appease Ivar.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ivar was throwing things in his tent and almost hit Ubbe.

 

“That's enough, brother!” Ubbe shouted.

 

“Enough? Who are you to lecture me? I won't stop until I have what I want.” Ivar ran his fingers through his hair in a gesture Ubbe knew as a sign of desolation.

 

“And what do you want, brother? What has been keeping you awake at night and cruel during the day?” Ubbe approached Ivar touching his shoulder cautiously.

 

“I-I…” Ivar did not want to reveal his secret about the maiden that has been haunting his dreams.

 

“I cannot! I cannot stay by your side anymore, Ivar!” Ubbe looked down and felt a knot in his stomach. His brother was beyond salvation and their mother would be disappointed Ubbe could not do anything.

 

“Do you want to leave? Go!” Ivar shouted, glaring at Ubbe, “I do not need you. To be true, you have been on my way.” Ivar tilted his head, thinking that he would be better without Ubbe constantly telling what he should do. He was a man, a great warlord and not a child.

 

“I will go, brother!” Ubbe walked away, gathering his portion of the army to sail away.

 

 

* * *

 

 

I do not understand what is happening to me. I feel a part of the ocean leaving my eyes and it is salty against my lips. Why am I feeling my heart tightening? The man I have learned it was his brother is leaving him.

 

Behind the facade of anger, I know he will miss him. Maybe as deeply as I miss my sisters. It has been a long time since I last saw them. Since I started following him. Should I go back home and forget him? Will I be cold enough to bury the image of his face and not think about him while looking at the blue sky?

 

The absence of his brother makes him crueler. The blood paints the soil and corrupts the purity of the lakes. My ears cannot bear the screams that always follow their arrival in those once peaceful lands. I feel intoxicated.

 

He is alone, and I do not know how to help him. I've left the shiny gifts for him to find them. A smile on my lips. But he looked… disappointed? He gave my gifts to his men and I felt fury rising. What does he want?

 

Sometimes I lose track of him and his men as they penetrate deep in the land. Only the smell of smoke and blood reaching my nose and I weep that once more I could not avoid the pain.

 

I am on the verge to give up and go back to my sisters. I am sitting on a rock, watching the waves washing the shore gently and the full moon. I close my eyes diving into sleep.

 

I dream about his eyes on me once more, but this time his warm fingertips are exploring my skin. When I open my eyes, I comprehend why the dream was so vivid. He is grinning and saying something I do not understand. The only thing I know is that he holds my freedom in his hands.

 

 

* * *

 

 

I must be going insane. I have been searching for a ghost. Raid after raid expecting to see her face again. All in vain. It was like the earth or the waters have swallowed her. Is it possible that I have imagined her? Have I fought Ubbe for nothing?

 

While the men are enjoying the mead, I drag my body to the coast. We will leave Alba in the morning and I still have not found my beauty.

 

The ocean is peaceful while in my mind I live a torment. I look around and gasp in surprise. I must have fallen asleep and it is another dream in which she visits me. I blink through the tears of excitement. I must touch her to be sure she is real, but I must be careful not to scare her away. Not when I have my last chance right in front of me.

 

She is lying naked on a rock; a fur is resting beside her and the truth hits me. It was the ocean that dragged her from me. My beauty is the magical being I have heard about in these foreign lands. Not like Ran’s daughters, but no less alluring. The moonlight is bathing her skin and I'm dazzled as I think anyone could believe she is made of gold. My eyes are starving after all the search and I can't decide where to look at. Her full lips with the promise of heated kisses and sweet moans. My mouth is watering as I look at the tender flesh of her breasts.

 

I crawl to her as silent as possible. It is so hard to control my heavy breathing, but my efforts will be rewarded. I can almost feel the warmth of her tender skin against mine. I wonder how it will be to hear her moaning beneath me.

 

It takes all my strength not to start touching or kiss her. I must be strategic and take her enchanted skin first. I only start kissing her salty lips once I have made sure I possessed the only thing that could keep her away from me. She moans in her dream and I feel the blood rushing to my groin. I must have her.

 

She opens her eyes slowly and gasps, noticing I hold her only way to escape.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Do not be afraid. I have been searching for you for too long and now I will finally have you. We will be together forever.” Ivar smiles, leaning forward to kiss her. His wicked grin is worth the chill running over the water droplets on her skin.

 

At first, Fionnuala does not know how to react. His lips feel so hot against her cold ones and his big and calloused hands are making her head spin.

 

She opens her mouth, but how will Fionnuala reveal she is afraid he will hurt her? Fionnuala wants him to stop, fearing his actions will make her scream and cry like the women from one of the attacked villages did when some of his men pinned them against the dirty ground. But the only sound that leaves her mouth is a moan. Fionnuala blinks in confusion and Ivar is grinning.

 

He keeps talking to her, but his words barely reach her, only the tone of them, his husky voice trying at gentleness. It is the first time she is close to a human.

 

“Your skin is so cold, but I am sure you will soon be warm for me.” Ivar looks deep into her eyes, as he thought, they are as dark as obsidian. His hunger takes over when he notices her chest rising and falling with every panting breath.

 

Ivar starts kissing her again and his hips are brushing against her core. Fionnuala feels her thighs trembling and her back arches. Ivar smiles against her lips, becoming bolder. As his fingers are pinching her nipples, Fionnuala lifts her hips against his covered manhood. Feeling something strange there, Fionnuala writhes.

 

“Do not deny me. I have searched you for so long.” Ivar hisses and the woman bites her lower lip.

 

She smiles, opening her legs for Ivar to settle between them while his mouth travels from her lips down to her neck and her breasts. He takes one of her nipples between his teeth. Fionnuala feels her center throbbing and she places one hand there feeling wetness forming. She starts crying, thinking she will turn into a water puddle like her cousins, the Ashrays.

 

Ivar looks up, cupping her face, “Do not be afraid! I will not hurt you. You are my treasure.”

 

His words still have no meaning to her, but the softness in his eyes and the sensations his touch is drawing from her are enough to convince Fionnuala to smile at him, “That is how I like to see your face.” He kisses every inch of skin he can reach before entering her slowly.

 

Fionnuala throws her head back, opening her mouth to gasp at the burning sensation. Ivar takes his time, breaking into her maidenhead carefully. Once Ivar is fully sheathed, he settles himself, putting his weight on his elbows.

 

His gorgeous face hovers over her as his eyes brim with patience and affection. Their foreheads are connected and Fionnuala chuckles between the tears, thinking she would not miss the sea too much during these precious moments for his eyes are like home and her heart swell with the thought he only needed love to show some kindness.

 

Ivar takes this as a sign to start moving. He retreats, admiring how her features turn from discomfort to pleasure once they find a pace comfortable enough for her to move with him. Feeling her gripping his shaft is enough to send Ivar over the edge and he growls, spilling his seed inside of her shattering body.

 

Ivar lays on his back, bringing her to his chest. Fionnuala feels her eyelids heavy and drifts easily into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The creatures Fionnuala thinks about are attributed to Scottish mythology tells us Ashrays, or Water Lovers, are completely translucent water creatures that are often mistaken for sea ghosts. They can be both male and female and can be found only under water. Being completely nocturnal, one would never come across such creatures during the day. When captured and exposed to sunlight ashrays supposedly melt and only a puddle of water remains.
> 
>  
> 
> [An assemblage of myths and legends on water and water creatures](https://www.lenntech.com/water-mythology.htm#ixzz4xzORpd3K)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> [Symbols in Arts, Religion and Culture: The Soul of Nature, by Farrin Chwalkowski](https://books.google.com.br/books?id=W-22DQAAQBAJ&pg=PA441&lpg=PA441&dq=Ashrays+puddle+of+water&source=bl&ots=vJTU-ewSPw&sig=IcIX60Aj5NQy86CEXv38209l1sU&hl=pt-BR&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwj_7sa98LLXAhVMHJAKHdxlB_UQ6AEIPDAG#v=onepage&q=Ashrays%20puddle%20of%20water&f=false)
> 
>  
> 
> [Heart of Palm, by Laura Lee Smith ](https://books.google.com.br/books?id=BTLRvrJqFKQC&pg=PT111&lpg=PT111&dq=Ashrays+puddle+of+water&source=bl&ots=aVFiZQRZNs&sig=yAARNfJ-6AXqBiLISGYm40xkBHo&hl=pt-BR&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwj_7sa98LLXAhVMHJAKHdxlB_UQ6AEIRjAI#v=onepage&q=Ashrays%20puddle%20of%20water&f=false)
> 
>  
> 
> [Encyclopedia of Fairies in World Folklore and Mythology, by Theresa Bane](https://books.google.com.br/books?id=rUqpAAAAQBAJ&pg=PA36&lpg=PA36&dq=Ashrays+puddle+of+water&source=bl&ots=PPWVYcnIEy&sig=pJkVsjSiQEiJh466mugu_cH6Sqk&hl=pt-BR&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwj_7sa98LLXAhVMHJAKHdxlB_UQ6AEIUTAK#v=onepage&q=Ashrays%20puddle%20of%20water&f=false)


	3. The Journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone surprised with Fionnuala's true nature? I wanted to keep it as a secret until Ivar found her. 
> 
> Fionnuala and Ivar face a journey with revelations on both sides. She will struggle with her new body as someone from Ivar's past arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once a Selkie is no longer in possession of his/her skin, the Selkie is under the hold of the human—most often depicted as a forced marriage. Interestingly, Selkie women are very good wives, but regardless of how happy a Selkie is on land, or how many children he/she beget during their time on the surface, once a Selkie recovers his/her lost skin, the Selkie immediately returns to the sea without looking back. Ironically, various tales also depict the half human children accidentally finding their parent's lost skin and returning it without being aware of the repercussions. 
> 
> One rather uncommon tale of Selkies reveals what happens if a Selkie chooses to return to the sea. It appears, according to one tale from the Faroe Islands, that upon making this choice, the Selkie is not able to return to his/her former life even if the Selkie wanted to. An abridged version of this tale describes a human husband sailing into a treacherous storm, saved only when his Selkie wife retrieves her skin and rescues him as a seal from certain death. Though this tale indicates a real love between the Selkie wife and her human husband, her donning of her seal skin will prevent her from ever taking part in the human world again. This is only one variation, of course, and thus is contradicted by other mythologies, however it is pertinent to the tale of Selkies because it reveals that all human/Selkie marriages are not hollow.
> 
>  
> 
> [Legends of the Selkies, Hidden Gems of Sea Mythology](http://www.ancient-origins.net/myths-legends/legends-selkies-hidden-germs-sea-mythology-006409)

* * *

 

 

The first rays of the sun wake her. Fionnuala moves, feeling his hand brushing over the hair from her face. She smiles noticing his skin does not feel so hot against her anymore. It is so peculiar. Ivar offers her his cloak and Fionnuala shakes her head pointing to her sealskin. Ivar smirks, “You will not need it anymore. I will dress you with the finest fabrics.”

 

Fionnuala feels a knot forming in her throat but cannot form the words. How will she tell him she must go, but she will get back?

 

Fionnuala tries to get up, but not being used to walk on two legs that long, she stumbles. Ivar does not let go of her skin, but he crawls cradling her shaking figure in his strong arms. He rocks her back and forth as he would do to a child until her sobs are only whimpers.

 

* * *

 

She cannot speak. It is difficult even to breathe in the harsh, dry air, so different from the soft embrace of the sea. But she follows him. If Fionnuala could speak, she would say that living with her in the deep ocean and traveling through the waters he could be free of crawling on earth. They would be equals.

 

The first steps hurt her feet, bringing tears to her eyes. Fionnuala tries to scream out to Ivar to tell him she is in pain, that she needs the healing ocean, but her tongue does not work to produce any intelligible sound.

 

The cloak Ivar had given her feels stiff and strange against the skin which had known only sand and sea foam. The scent of the fur is making her sick for she had only killed fish to eat, but Fionnuala ponders that those men do not have a skin as powerful as hers and they need to keep their bodies warm.

 

As time passes, she can feel the muscles of her body adjusting themselves to the land. She watches those strange men that smell like metal and leather greeting Ivar and looking at her with lust when he is distracted.

 

Fionnuala glances at the women and men who had been caught and bound. She wants to beg their pardon for she thinks if she had given herself to Ivar that day at the lake, he would not feel unloved and willing to hurt people.

 

She fears they will believe she is out of her mind. Fionnuala thinks her family would be proud of her sacrifice for the waters they call home will not be painted with crimson anymore.

 

She will love him, and he will know what is the most important thing in the world, far more precious than any of those shiny things he has been seeking to satisfy his greed.

 

At night she notices how he looks satisfied, laughing with his warriors. Ivar offers her freshly cooked meat, but her hand covers her mouth, suddenly disgusted. Ivar glares at her with furrowed brows until a thought occurs to him.

 

He beckons to one of the slaves and Fionnuala does not understand what he is saying until that woman comes back with smoked fish. She wants to be able to show her appreciation for his kindness, but her empty stomach dominates her thoughts and she devours the food.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They are alone in his tent and when he touches her, Fionnuala wonders how different it would have been to have mated with one of her own kind, in warm waters at noon. The feelings are strange, and she says her first words in his language, “Ivar.”

 

He looks deep into her eyes with the brightest smile she had ever seen on his lips displayed on that alluring face of his. Fionnuala returns his smile thinking that he will understand she needs to go home and they will be together eventually.

 

Ivar brings her to his chest, he mumbles against her hair, “How should I call you, _minn hjärta_?”

 

“Fionnuala,” She whispers and looks up at him with those wide and vivid eyes. Ivar repeats her name a few times before he can pronounce it correctly. Fionnuala giggles with his every attempt and Ivar finds out he loves the sound of her laughter. She buries her face on his chest and his heartbeat eludes Fionnuala to sleep.

 

Ivar is not there when the morning light finally begins to trickle into the tent, bathing her skin with warmth. She can feel his scent bathing her skin and replacing the smell of the ocean. She must go back and tell her sisters not all men are evil. That some of them can learn to love.

 

But to return, Fionnuala must find her skin. She notices a heavy chest and is disappointed to find only human clothes. His clothes judging by the aroma. Fionnuala smiles and decides she will wait for him to ask for her skin. He will not deny her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You are awake. You must be hungry.” Ivar crawls to her and presses a soft kiss against her lips, “If you keep your body exposed this way, I will not be able to restrain myself and we will lose the tide we must catch.”

 

He drags his body to the chest she had looked in earlier. He looks from Fionnuala to the mess she left there. His lips are forming a pout and he tilts his head taking one of his breeches and a tunic, “It must fit while we do not get home.”

 

Fionnuala shakes her head and Ivar feels his jaw trembling for he knew this moment would come, “No!” her voice is only a whisper but enough to make his blood boil and this time is not because of arousal.

 

“I will buy you beautiful dresses when we arrive home. Do not be picky.” Ivar hisses and she embraces her trembling body, “See? You are cold. You must dress.” He tries to brush a strand of her hair and she fights not to flinch with his touch.

 

Fionnuala rises to her feet and starts walking to the opening of the tent. Ivar yells, making her turn around, “You cannot go out... this way,” Ivar points to her breasts and mound, “Come here and cover yourself.”

 

She is not a woman of his world and Ivar believes the Gods have sent him a gift because they noticed him. But with his gift also came a burden. He should teach her. She does not know what modesty means to them, or respect, or acquiescence. But she will learn. Ivar will make sure of it.

 

“You are a smart woman. There is no need for us to disagree. We enjoyed each other, huh? I _know_ you did. This pretty mouth was made to moan my name as you did last night. I will make sure you will do it again.” Ivar presses his lips against her temple and waits for her to dress.

 

Fionnuala watches the men loading what she believes to be wooden beasts and wonders if she will convince Ivar to release her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Fionnuala is hanging over the edge, watching the bow of the ship slicing through the waves and splashing water on her face. Ivar is terrified she might try to jump into the water. Fionnuala tries to remember how it feels to have the water caressing her skin without restraining her like those garments.

 

Her throat is tightening with her attempt not to cry out. Her resolution is destroyed when Fionnuala listen to her sisters' call. The seals are screaming for her and her legs attend the call the best way she can. Fionnuala does not register the faces of horror or Ivar's shouts.

 

She leans on the edge of the ship and howls her lungs out until Ivar grabs her behind the knees, pulling her down and flipping her over. He is heavy pinning her against the deck.

 

“Are you crazy, woman? Do you want to kill yourself?” while his face hovers over her, Fionnuala thinks his features are so different from the two occasions he had touched her. The loving eyes were replaced by a cold stare, the gentleness of his hands was erased to give place to a vicious grip on her upper arms. Fionnuala closes her eyes feeling the hot stream of tears bathing her skin while she longs for the salty ocean instead.

 

She feels him shifting his position, not constricting her anymore. Ivar sits and glances at her shuddering figure. Fionnuala can see he is penalized by the way he keeps running his fingers through his hair. She hopes he will allow her to be reunited with her family because he knows how it is to be parted from a brother.

 

She returns his gaze but does not dare to say any of the words she had learned like magic. He offers his hand and Fionnuala reaches for his touch trying to find some comfort. He envelops her in his arms whispering softly against her hair, “Do not weep! I do not like seeing you cry. We will solve this.”

 

Breathing the essence that emerges from the crook of his neck is relaxing, but she freezes when Ivar shouts commands to his men. His words are new to her, but she sees the way his lips turn into a grin and something deep inside tells Fionnuala he is ordering something terrible.

 

* * *

 

 

Some of his men grab those curved weapons and start launching the sharp wooden sticks against my seal sisters as they beckon me home from the rocks.

 

I fight against the steel bands of Ivar's arms in vain. A loud, doleful wail slipping from my constricted throat. _They must stop_. I see Ivar grinning and realize he kills not only to survive. _He enjoys the carnage_.

 

_Why do not they understand me? Why are they trying to hurt my sisters? They are not trying to sink the wooden monster or to harm those two-legged beasts._

 

When I listen to the sharp cry of Morren, I finally understand the only way to save my family is to accept I will never see them again. I inhale and start yelling.

 

“You were right! I was naive to trust a man. They are made of steel and afraid of the sea. I must stay with him to pay for my curiosity. You, my sisters, do not have to pay with your blood. I will look at the ocean and think about all of you until my last breath.” The salty water rolling from my eyes tastes different in my tongue. It is like home leaking from my insides and abandoning me.

 

* * *

 

 

 _I abandoned my sea home first. Fionnuala_  thinks, watching her sisters diving into the dark waters. 

 

Fionnuala does not know how to name sadness, but it does not mean she feels it less deep.

 

 

* * *

 

 

During the rest of the journey, she keeps gazing at the ocean, not daring to come near the edge of the ship. Ivar notices her sadness but believes that it will stop as soon as they arrive home. It will end as soon as Fionnuala sees the riches and status she will have as his wife.

 

 _She will give me strong children and they will be blessed by the Gods. A lineage from Odin and sea's blood. Maybe she is already carrying a baby._ Ivar thinks while gazing at her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Fionnuala feels his hot breath against her ear, “We are home!”

 

She wants to tell him it is not her home, but seeing how excited he looks, she presses her lips together and smiles shyly at him. Ivar leads the way to the longhouse and Fionnuala is easily distracted by the noises and smells around her. Ivar grins thinking she is fascinated by his world and will adapt quickly.

 

She sees the captives in line while the strangers from Ivar's land come to see them. Fionnuala does not understand the meaning of the words exchanged, but the wolfish grin from some of the men to the frightened girls is not a mystery to her. The men keep talking until both are smiling, meaning that they agreed to something. She sees gold changing hands and one by one the chained people follow different men.

 

Ivar notices her curiosity and says, “Do not worry! You are mine and far more precious than silver or gold.”

 

When they reach the longhouse, Ivar orders the slaves and servants to prepare a feast while he and Fionnuala are bathing.

 

The sensation of women touching her body is different from everything she has ever felt. They keep brushing her skin, massaging her hair with something that reminds her of the flowers from the lakes.

 

When they are finished, Fionnuala is dressed in an embroidered red dress that reminds her of the crimson Ivar had left behind in every village he attacked and it makes her feel guilty because she realizes he was searching for her. Another wave of sorrow hits her and the ocean escapes through her eyes once more. Fionnuala wonders how long until she is no longer a creature of water.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Fionnuala steps into the feast hall, Ivar feels his jaw trembling with anxiety to have her all for himself. But he must settle his claim first.

 

He walks with the help of his crutches until he is in front of her. He captures her lips softly and the crowd cheers, making her jump, “You are so beautiful. A goddess on earth only for me.”

 

Fionnuala blinks confused with his statement. She wants to reveal she is not a goddess, especially not one from the earth.

 

“This journey brought us riches, slaves and the acknowledgment of the Gods,” Ivar shouts to his men gaining a new wave of cheers, Fionnuala notices the commotion and how wide is Ivar's smile, “I have been blessed with a wife sent by the Gods.” Ivar points to Fionnuala and her hands start trembling on her lap as the crowd burst into applause.

 

Fionnuala sees how Ivar's joy increases as the night goes on. They drink something sweet that Ivar tells her it is a honeyed ale. In her mouth, it is not so sweet as she suspects it should be. The smell of meat makes her sick and, from time to time, she has to run to the place he said they would sleep to empty her stomach. Obscured by the table, Ivar squeezes her thigh and Fionnuala feels a throbbing between her legs.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Once they are alone, Ivar is eager to take her. There is no time for whispered words or small caresses as Fionnuala lies there, stunned to stillness.

 

He is inside of her quickly, plunging into her and groaning as she grips his length. He leans over, so he can bury himself deeper and watch her face as she starts moaning once the initial shock of his intrusion is replaced with a tingling sensation whenever he hits a hidden bund of nerves or his groin brushes against the pearl at her entrance. His mouth comes down on hers, cutting off the pleading sounds leaving her lips.

 

His thrusts become more forceful, and the headboard is smashing against the wall. Fionnuala cries out as her body shake, wracked with tremors as pleasure overwhelms her. He drinks in her sounds, possessing her swollen and inexperienced lips as she offers them up to him.

 

She kisses him back with her mouth wide open as she is not afraid of swallowing poison. She tastes the tenderness and the brutality and Fionnuala wants them both.

 

When he feels his own climax approaching, climbing up his spine and spreading through his groin, he pulls away from that tempting mouth of hers, watching the peace that comes over her face as she is recovering from her peak. He chases his own release, joining her in a chorus of deep inhales as if they are drowning in a tormented sea.

 

Fionnuala lies awake that night, his arm over her waist is like the iron chains she saw on the captives’ wrists.

 

 

* * *

 

 

In the morning Ivar is awake by a sound of someone whining. He founds Fionnuala hidden in a corner. She is sitting on the floor embracing her legs. He does not know what happened to make her cry. He leaves the bed crawling to her whispering words of comfort that make her lift her head looking into his eyes.

 

“What happened? Why are you crying? Are you hurt?” Ivar tries not to scare her more gathering all the gentleness he is capable of to talk to her.

 

“I-I am bleeding.” She stutters hiding her face in her knees again.

 

“Where is your wound? How did you hurt yourself?” Ivar's patience is fading, and he starts questioning her without stopping to breathe or to allow Fionnuala to form an answer. In fact, he fears he is the one that had hurt her when he unleashed his lust upon her the night before.

 

Fionnuala starts sobbing and Ivar touches her hair trying to calm her down, “Tell me! If you do not say, I cannot help you.” Fionnuala thinks about telling Ivar he cannot do anything. The ocean inside of her is corrupted and crimson as the blood he spilled.

 

Fionnuala rises her face and Ivar wipes away the tears with his thumb, placing a chaste kiss on her forehead, “My belly hurts... blood,” she is shivering, and Ivar cups her face, “blood here.” Fionnuala points to her thighs and Ivar laughs causing her to frown.

 

“It is your moonblood. It means you are a woman. I think you have never spent that much time on land to bleed. It is okay. You are not hurt. You will stop bleeding in a few days and...” Ivar smiles thinking about her belly growing round with his seed.

 

“I do not understand... if it is the moon, why the blood is... here?” Fionnuala’s voice is faltering as she is confused with his explanation.

 

“I suppose it is better if another woman explains this to you.” Ivar keeps caressing her hair and Fionnuala stops crying.

 

“Another woman?” He notices the shadow of doubt in her eyes, “My heart is hurting.” Fionnuala places her hand on her chest and Ivar smiles.

 

“You are afraid. Your heart is beating fast. That is why you feel like it is aching. I will call Astrid to help you.” He mutters while pressing another kiss to her forehead.

 

Fionnuala watches him crawling away and wondering how the human woman will help her. Her thoughts go to her sisters. She wonders if Morren survived her wounds and if they would know what to do about the blood gluing the skin of her thighs.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Astrid comes and helps Fionnuala to her feet. A few others follow inside bringing hot water and leaving them alone. Astrid walks Fionnuala to a bathtub. The warmth and the gentle touch almost makes Fionnuala dive into sleep.

 

The woman explains how she is supposed to use a cloth to deal with the blood and that she will bleed a few days every time the moon makes its full cycle.

 

“It means you are a grown woman and that you can bear children. Ivar's babies.” Astrid says taking Fionnuala by the hand to make her lie on the bed.

 

The elderly woman feels pity for her. Even though she is a little jealous of her privileges as Ivar instructed her to spare the woman from the arduous work, Astrid does not envy Fionnuala’s youth. The price she is not even aware she will pay for those commodities.

 

Not for the first time Astrid is grateful for the wrinkles on her that prevent men of the urge to approach her.

 

 _What will happen if I am pregnant? Will the child be a creature from the sea or the earth? Despised or honored by both worlds?_ She feels a knot in her throat.

 

The months go by, she gets used to Ivar's language and some aspects of life as a human. But still she longs for the sea and when Ivar starts the preparation for a new raid, Fionnuala feels her heart swelling thinking she will see the ocean again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Where are we going this time?” They are lying on the bed with Ivar resting his head on her breasts while she runs her fingers through his thick hair.

 

He lifts his head and Fionnuala notices his jaw is clenching, “What?” she asks searching for his eyes that drifted to her stomach.

 

“Not we!” Ivar swallows hard and Fionnuala feels her hopes being ripped out from her chest, “You must stay.”

 

“Why? I promise I will behave...” her voice comes out as a whimper and Ivar feels guilty for leaving her behind.

 

“I know you would. It is just that a raiding party is not a safe place for you...” Ivar kisses her forehead and is surprised with her next words.

 

“If it is not safe for me, how is it safe for you? How can you ask me to stay? You are hurting me! If you do not come back, I will be trapped here...” The tears are streaming down her eyes and Ivar starts wiping them away. He wants to stop making her cry, but it seems he is too good at making her suffer, “alone on earth. Is that what you want for me?”

 

“I will get back. I promise you. And there is another reason you must stay....” He smiles making her roll her eyes.

 

“Which reason?” Fionnuala mutters trying to break free from Ivar, who is kissing her face and smothering her.

 

“You may be with child.” His hand goes to her belly, caressing the delicate skin.

 

Fionnuala smiles back at him, covering his hand with hers, “I do not think I am.”

 

Ivar laughs, “I think you are, after the sounds I extracted from your pretty mouth, just a few minutes ago.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The day of Ivar's departure comes and once more Fionnuala feels the sea flowing from her eyes. He promised he would come back, but he had promised her many things before. The most important was that she would be happy with him, and she is, but something is always missing. And she knows it will be a constant torment because if she abandons him, guilt and sadness will follow her.

 

She understands he cannot change completely because and for her. She accepts her hopes to help him are damned to failure, but giving up means she would be lonely in the bottom of the sea while he would be spreading terror on land.

 

She spends the first days helping Astrid with the chores, but it does not make her less anxious. One morning she decides to walk alone. She wanders until a lake appears in front of her and she smiles thinking about their lake, Ivar's and hers. The lake that brought them together. She pulls up her dress sitting on the edge of the lake with her legs hanging down to the water until a harsh voice makes her feel shivers down her spine.

 

“What are you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Selkies (also spelled silkies, sylkies, selchies, Scots: selkie fowk) are mythological creatures found in Irish, Scottish, Faroese, and Icelandic folklore. Selkies are said to live as seals in the sea but shed their skin to become human on land. The stories frequently revolve around female selkies being coerced into relationships with humans by someone stealing and hiding their sealskin, often not regaining the skin until years later upon which they commonly return to the sea, forsaking their human family. The legend is most common in the Northern Isles of Scotland and is very similar to those of swan maidens.
> 
>  
> 
> [Selkie](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Selkie)
> 
>  
> 
> There are numerous stories about selkie women who are captured by sailors and taken onto land with them to be made into their loyal wives. The men were said to have hidden the selkie's seal-skin in order to keep her bound to the land. Unfortunately for these men, most of the time the selkie woman has an insatiable longing for the ocean..and if she finds her hidden seal-skin? Well, she puts it on and runs back to her home under the waves, never to be seen again.
> 
> The seal-men or selkie males are said to be very attractive (as opposed to male merrows who were supposedly rather ugly), and legend has it that if a woman wants to have a selkie-lover she need only cry seven tears into the water and he will appear to her. Usually these love stories are tragic and end in more tears for the human lovers. In some cases, selkies are malevolent and will seduce humans to the water and drag them under...while other stories tell of selkies saving drowning sailors.
> 
> There are theories of origin for selkies. One of them says that the selkies were merely women from Northern cultures that wore skins and used animal-skins on their kayaks. They came from the sea, and so therefore the legend of the seal-woman was born. Or perhaps the legend comes from old sailor stories where indeed they had sightings of seals and imagined these seals to be beautiful women instead.
> 
>  
> 
> [Merrows, Selkies, and Kelpies: Irish and Scottish Underwater Creatures Like the Mermaid](https://exemplore.com/cryptids/Merrows-Selkies-and-Kelpies-Irish-and-Scottish-Underwater-Creatures-Like-the-Mermaid)
> 
>  
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> Amorous, affectionate and affable, Selkies are the hidden gems of sea mythology. Gentle souls who prefer dancing in the moonlight over luring sailors to their death, Selkies are often overlooked by mythological enthusiasts for the more enthralling forms of mermaids or sirens. Yet Selkies play a prominent role in the mythology of Scandinavia, Scotland and Ireland. Their myths are romantic tragedies, a common theme for land/sea romances, however it is the Selkies who suffer rather than their human lovers and spouses. While the tales of Selkies always begin with a warm and peaceful "once upon a time", there are no true happy ending for the tales of Selkies—someone always gets his/her heart broken. 
> 
> Their name descends from the Scottish selich, and there does not appear to be a Gaelic term for these creatures. This is likely indicative of their prominence in early modern Scottish culture. It is believed that the Selkies arose in legends when early Scottish settlers and shipwrecked Spaniards married dark-haired, fur-wearing Finnish and Saami native women. 
> 
> Described as incredibly handsome and beautiful, Selkies take the role of both predator and prey. Those who willingly come to land often seek those who are already dissatisfied in their daily lives such as the wives of fisherman. It appears more common in myths that the "predator" Selkies are usually the males, as tales indicate the men more often seek out lonely humans; however, there are also variations in which human women choose to summon male Selkies to the shore by sending seven tears to the sea. Selkies can only remain in the presence of humans for a short period of time, and then must commonly wait seven years to return the shore. That rule is broken, however, when a Selkie is forced to remain a human without his/her consent. 
> 
> The other way in which Selkies become part of human life is when their seal skin is stolen. These tales most often occur to female Selkies, creating the role of "prey" as mentioned above. It is not uncommon in myths for Selkies to come ashore and transform into humans for pleasure, and it is often during this time (when the skin is left unattended) that human men steal the female's skin.
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> [Legends of the Selkies, Hidden Gems of Sea Mythology](http://www.ancient-origins.net/myths-legends/legends-selkies-hidden-germs-sea-mythology-006409)


	4. Salty and Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fionnuala faces Ivar's past and finds an unexpected friend and some answers.

 

* * *

 

 

I hear this husky voice inquiring me and I feel my heart beating frenetically against my ribs. I glance over my shoulder but there is no one behind me. The voice repeats with a sneer.

 

“What are you, little girl?” The coldness in this voice makes the hair on the back of my neck stand at attention.

 

I gasp when I see a beautiful woman swimming. Only her face is out of water staring at me. My eyes are narrowed trying to remember if I have seen her before, but I have no memories of this strange girl. She grins at me and it reminds so much of Ivar. It is cruel as she is trying to allure me to danger.

 

“You ask me what I am, but I do not know you. Who are you?” I try my best to sound brave, but my voice wobbles and the woman laughs.

 

“I can smell the sea in you, but there is something else. You are not human, are you?” Her voice is so woven with mockery.

 

She dives into the water disappearing from my sight. I kneel on the shore trying to find her. She must have drowned. When I am about to jump into the lake to save her, the girl rises to the surface and her face is a few inches from my own. She smirks inhaling along my face and then my neck. Something about her has power over me and I find myself unable to move.

 

“You are from the sea folk.” She tilts her head, smiling and showing me a set of sharp and white teeth, “I am Morven.”

 

“Y-you… you a-are…” It has been so long since I last saw my sisters and now I am in front of someone that reminds me of home.

 

“I am a mermaid! You must be…” her nose wrinkles in disgust, “a Selkie.”

 

Her words make me look around us as if I could prevent someone else from hearing us.

 

“Why are you scared?” her voice is sweet, but I am still unsure if I can trust her. Selkies and mermaids usually avoid each other as our natures are so different.

 

“I am not scared.” I declare hoping she cannot hear my shallow breathing.

 

“Are you not?” She chuckles, “I will not hurt you. I am just… curious. Why are you wearing human clothes?” 

 

“I…” I do not know why I feel the urge to tell her what happened to me, but I suppose revealing the truth cannot hurt me more, “I am Fionnuala. I came here with a man.”

 

“Why am I not surprised? You Selkies are always so…,” her eyes travel through my body, “romantic.”

 

She burst into laughter and my eyes start watering because of the memories of my sisters and how I put them in danger. It seems Morven notices my hesitation, “I am sorry. I did not mean to offend, but you must admit that your kin is inclined to tragedy by following humans. It is so much more useful to just eat them. Feeling your teeth sinking into the tender flesh and their meat caressing your tongue and throat as you swallow every piece of their bodies."

 

I see her closing her eyes and pressing her lips together as she moans in delight, “I cannot forget the warmth of the blood painting my face as I make them scream. Such a sweet song they sing.”

 

She must have heard the strangled whimper that left my mouth, “Are you afraid I will eat your precious human?” Morven gasps dramatically as she analyzes me once again, “Yes. You are afraid I will eat your human. Especially now. Do you know why I am ashamed to share the waters with your species?” Morven lifts her chin as her eyes are focused on my stomach.

 

I pout at her remark as I think I should be the one embarrassed that she allures men to their deaths, “Why are you looking at me this way? I said nothing to hurt you and yet… You cannot keep yourself from offending me.”

 

“Do not you know? Oh, innocent Selkie.” She giggles, and I am losing my patience. I thought I could have someone to talk with, but now I see she is only teasing me.

 

"You mix the blood of the sea folk with those cruel beasts. They call us monsters and you and your sisters lay with them. They are the real monsters and you are carrying one of them inside of you.” The revelation hits me, and I open my mouth blinking at her. Is it possible that I am carrying Ivar’s child?

 

“That cannot be… Ivar…” I stutter, and Morven interrupts me.

 

“Ivar? Do you know Ivar Ragnarsson?” I do not understand why her nostrils are flaring and her lips twist as she pronounces my lover’s name. It is like his name is bitter in her mouth.

 

“Yes. Do you know Ivar as well?” I do not understand why my heart is feeling heavy in my chest as I imagine Morven and Ivar together.

 

“I do. I gave him a sword with the promise of glory. The sword from the loch I lived in was begging for a new wielder, and I will never understand why Ivar was the chosen one. He is a foreigner. It is a shame he was granted something true Scotsmen had been deprived as their blood is spilled and their freedom is taken away.” I swallow for I know she is right. Ivar’s people have been making our homeland bleed.

 

“Is that true? Am I carrying his child?” My hands go to my stomach as I imagine how happy Ivar will be with the news. As soon as happiness wash over me, the fear comes.

 

What if I never see him again? What if I am doomed to be trapped here with a child Ivar will never know about. Behind my eyes, I have a sea I have to weep and Morven clicks her tongue in disapproval.

 

“Yes. You are carrying his baby. Another of them to spread terror around the world.” She swims closer to me with a grimace on her face. I crawl backward afraid she might hurt my baby out of hatred for Ivar.

 

“Do you think I will harm you? It is a crime… You must know it. Unless you forgot. I would not be surprised that you forgot our ways. You must have been living among them for too long.” She shouts making me jump.

 

“You hate them. I am not wrong to be cautious.” She laughs throwing her head back.

 

“I like you, little Selkie. You are so funny.” Morven stares at me once more and I feel she is gazing at my soul, “Does he treat you well?”

 

My lips curl up a little as I think about the moments we share alone, but I cannot avoid remembering how he seems exasperated whenever I make questions, disagree or do something he considers stupid. I suppose living with Ivar is growing used to the soft voice making me feel both loved and out of place as he demands I must be like the women from his people.

 

“I suppose he does not treat you kindly. Why do you stay with him? Why do not you go back to your sisters.” Morven crawls to sit by my side and I glance at her sharp scales, her green tail is so strong. I imagine it is appropriate for such a fierce mermaid. For a moment I envy her.

 

“If my tail was stuck to my hips I would be free, but I love him, and I know he loves me too. He is only confused…” My vision is blurred by the tears that keep flowing as a waterfall.

 

“Stop finding excuses for him. I will help to find your skin. Bring Ivar to me and I will make him tell us where is your sealskin.” She wraps her arms around me and I lay my head on her shoulder.

 

“I cannot bring Ivar here. You will hurt him.” Morven runs her fingers through my hair as Ivar usually do to calm my nerves.

 

“I promise I will not.” Her honeyed voice is just like he talks to me when he is trying to convince me. I lift my head to see her face.

 

“Do not think I am stupid. I would not bring you Ivar, even if he were here.” She pulls me closer. I sob on her shoulder and Morven just shakes her head, allowing me to find some comfort with her proximity.

 

“Where is Ivar?” Morven inquiries me after my body stops shaking from my crying. I keep watching her features to know if she intends to kill Ivar. I decide not to give her much information about where Ivar is.

 

“Raiding,” I whisper, and Morven rolls her eyes.

 

“Of course he is. Do you like to live with his people? Do not you miss home?” Morven seems interested in the way I feel, what reminds me of Astrid.

 

“They are not only violent, Morven. They love, they are capable of kindness too. You should see.” She lets out a long, weary breath when I finish.

 

“No, thank you! I am better alone. I only want to be close to humans as I devour their flesh.” Morven smiles for a moment until she realizes I am not amused.

 

“Do you really miss him, do not you?” Morven presses her lips together and I see that although she does not agree with me, she is trying to understand me.

 

“I do. I might never see him again. I might never have the chance to tell him I am carrying his child.” I start weeping again and I pant feeling her arms holding me once more.

 

“He will come back. Do not cry! I am sure you will see him again. The bad men always last more.” She affirms and even though I cannot see her face I know her face is twisted into a scowl.

 

“Thanks for listening to me, Morven. I was so lonely.” I wipe away my tears as I must go back to Ivar’s home before my absence is noticed and they search for me. I do not want to put Morven in risk.

 

“You are not alone anymore. I will be here if you need me. And if Ivar treats you badly, do not hesitate to bring him to me. He might have skinny legs, but his arms are muscular.”

 

Her grin makes me shiver and I think that no matter how poorly Ivar treats me, I will never tell Morven.

 

“I must go now before they come after me.” I am sure Ivar left instructions that I was to be guarded well.

 

“Let them come. I am starving.” She laughs, and I frown, but I find her excitement so contagious that I see myself smiling shyly at her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

I realize Morven was right as I watch Ivar's men unloading the ships. More slaves and gold, but my eyes are focussed on the man that is coming to me.

 

 

* * *

 

 

I feel his warm and soft lips covering my face with kisses and my skin tingles as I imagine what he wants. For my surprise, Ivar has a new intention, “I know you are not sleeping anymore. It is time to prepare you for the wedding.”

 

“We-wedding?” I turn to face him and Ivar smile is as wide as the first time he claimed me at the beach. I do not know what he wants me to do, but judging by his tenderness it seems it is something that will make him happy.

 

“Yes. You will be my wife. The others will see the Gods had blessed us, and our children will be Princes and Princesses.” Ivar caresses my belly and I giggle with the sensation his touch causes me.

 

“It feels strange when you do this. But, what is a wife?” I lift my hands to feel the muscles of his chest. I have learned to appreciate when he holds me close at night. He is so big and warm that I do not need furs.

 

“A wife is a man’s companion. She takes care of the house and the children.” Ivar pulls me closer kissing my forehead.

 

“I am your companion already. I helped my sisters whenever they had babies,” I stop for a moment thinking if it will be so different to look after a half-human child. I advert my eyes afraid he will reject me for my lack of ability to take care of the house, “But...”

 

“What?” he uses his finger under my chin, forcing me to meet his solemn gaze.

 

“I do not know how to manage a house. I lived in the ocean. We did not need to build a house. The sea is our home and I did not have to be a wife to take care of the babies. I cannot be a wife.” I feel my hands trembling and my eyes burn with unshed tears.

 

“Everything is different now. Your home is here. Astrid will teach you everything. Now get up that you have a busy day ahead of you.” He leaves me in bed and while he is dressing I feel my throat tightening with the weight on his expectations.

 

I gasp noticing he is crawling to me with a sword in his hand. I have witnessed the violence he is capable of and I feel sweat running down my forehead, “What is it?” my voice is trembling as I see his lips curling up in a smile as if my question is amusing.

 

“It is a sword, little one.” He chuckles as I cover myself with the furs in a vain attempt at protection. Only my skin can protect me if Ivar means harm, it is the only way to run. But I feel like I will never be whole again.

 

“Why are you bringing this sword?” his face close to mine is making me shiver despite the hot breath coming from his mouth.

 

“Are you afraid of me? Do I have reasons to hurt you? You are an obedient woman, are not you?” The smile turns into a grin and I feel like he is threatening me if I dare to disagree or displease him. I cannot talk so I just shake my head.

 

“Good. I knew it would be easy to make you understand your place is with me from now on...” He leans forward to kiss my lips and I am confused by this gentle gesture. So different from the warnings that came from the same soft lips. It is like his mouth is both venom and cure. It is agony and healing. It is like he is showing me that I was mistaken to be afraid.

 

“During the wedding ceremony, you will gift this sword to me as a sign that it is my responsibility to keep you safe. I will give you a sword as well...”

 

“But what will I do with a sword?” I stare at the shining metal between us. It is a reminder of the bloodshed that happened back home. A memory of how he and his warriors turned the pure and sacred water into a stink crimson of death.

 

“You must learn patience, my love. If you had not interrupted me, I would have explained,” his eyes are narrowed and when he sees I am quiet, he proceeds with his explanations, “the sword is for you to keep until we have a son to swing it. When the priestess asks you if you want to marry me, you only have to say yes. See? It is simple.” I nod and Ivar smiles at my compliance. It seems so easy to please him.

 

He leaves me alone, but I am not allowed the silence and solitude for long as Astrid and the other servants enter to help me to prepare for the wedding.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Astrid walks by my side, “Are you nervous?” she holds my hand looking into my eyes.

 

“I am afraid... what if I cannot be a wife?” I swallow hard as Astrid stops to embrace me.

 

“Do you want to do this? I mean...” Astrid whispers in my ear and I feel like she is afraid someone might hear us. She takes my face in her hands, looking deep into my eyes, “Do you want to be his wife?” I blink in confusion because it is the first time someone is asking what I want.

 

“I love and want to stay with him, but sometimes I am afraid. I still miss home and my family.” I feel my eyes burning and I sniff.

 

“Do you think he is worth this sacrifice?” Astrid looks around us as if she is expecting someone to hear us.

 

“Sometimes I feel like he loves me by what I am... but...” I feel my hands trembling. I do not know if I can trust Astrid with my secret, “there are moments in which I believe he resents me for not being like the others. His anger is like a rope tying us together because he wants to have me, but it can make me suffocate.”

 

“We must go, Astrid!” Siggy, one of the servants, is urging us to walk faster.

 

Astrid hugs me one last time before we follow the others.

 

 

* * *

 

 

We are in the bathhouse. The women place rocks in the center of the room, they are heated by a fire beneath. Water is poured over them to produce steam. I am not feeling well as sweat cover my body.

 

Astrid looks at me, “Why are you still dressed?”

 

I do not understand why I am feeling ashamed to undress in front of them. Is it because Ivar had instilled in me the feeling? Am I missing the moments I shared with my sisters? It is not only sweat that is wetting my face now.

 

The women help me to wash my hair and even their touch being relaxing, I feel on the verge of fainting as my body is covered in sweat. I pledge to Astrid to finish the task faster, “I do not want to stay here. I am… I am not feeling well.” My voice is weak, and I see pity in Astrid’s eyes

 

“I think we can finish earlier. You are no longer a maiden anyway.” Astrid walks to me with a dress, helping me to get ready for the wedding. The other women bring a chain with colorful and transparent stones. They place it around my neck and although it is beautiful, it feels heavy. I wonder if the chained people Ivar brought from my homeland felt the same weight.

 

When the women left to tend to other chores, Astrid insists on her earlier questions, “Do you want to do this?” I do not know why she looks worried about me. Her voice is gentle but mixed with urgency.

 

“I… I do not know… I cannot go.” If I hated him, it would be easier to run. I would find a way to get my skin back and go home. But I have seen his love and it was not easy to turn my back knowing that I would be forbidden to see him again.

 

“If you want to go, I can help you…” I notice the way her lips tremble as she offers my freedom. Astrid is risking her life by proposing this.

 

“I will not. I appreciate your offer. But I will not be his excuse for carnage anymore. I am sorry.” I walk ahead of Astrid determined to face whatever it is going to happen.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“We are gathered here to watch Ivar, son of Ragnar, join this woman in marriage. May the Gods join us to bless them.” I wonder if his Gods approve of our union. I cannot understand which blessings she might be referring to, so I tilt my head, searching for Ivar's eyes in the hope he will tell me what she is saying. He is too deep in thoughts sitting by my side that I do not dare to question him.

 

“Who gives this woman to her husband?” the stranger woman asks, while her eyes go from Ivar to my face. I feel my mouth dry because I do not know what she wants me to do. Ivar had only told me to say yes and I see the woman laughing when I pronounce this word. I glance at Ivar in confusion and he glares at me, at this moment I know I did something wrong.

 

“Her relatives are dead. She gives herself to me.” His jaw is clenching as he glares at me. The priestess nods her head and the ceremony continues.

 

Some animals are led to a big altar, where everyone can see them. I feel my heart beating faster as if I am the one waiting for the blade.

 

“What is this woman doing, Ivar?” I whisper to him while I watch her carrying a big dagger to where the animals are waiting. It makes me think about what happened in the morning when Ivar handed me a sword.

 

“Be quiet! The gyðja will make the sacrifice.” He has a strong grip on my hand and I bite my lip in pain. Ivar gasps noticing what he did, “I am sorry!” he starts making circles on the back of my hand.

 

On a small altar, I see a large wooden bowl and the swords I will exchange with Ivar.

 

“I summon the attention of the Gods upon us. May them accept our sacrifice, and bless this man and this woman, that are here to be tied in marriage.” With a summary motion of the dagger, she slits a goat’s throat. All I want is to run and empty my stomach, but the hold Ivar has on me is stronger. When he sees I am flinching, his nostrils start flaring and I gulp in fear.

 

The wooden bowl is placed bellow the animal to collect its blood. When the bowl is filled, the animal is taken away. “Hail to Thor!” I want to ask who is Thor and why he wants blood, but I imagine that he might be a man like Ivar. That would explain his thirst for blood.

 

The woman takes a bundle of fir branches and plunges it in the blood. With sharp gestures, she moves the bundle over us, small drops of blood splashing against our faces. I press my lips together not to cry as I feel the warm blood touching my skin.

 

Ivar seems so absorbed by the ritual. His features are relaxed, and I cannot stop thinking about the first time I laid my eyes on him. He was blood-soaked as well and the memory hits me. I wanted to touch him back then. As if he knows I am watching him, Ivar opens his eyes. I am taken by surprise, but I smile at him feeling my stomach fluttering in anticipation as he smirks. The gyðja shouts and I advert my eyes from Ivar.

 

She approaches a pig, cutting its throat, “Hail to Freyja!”

 

She proceeds the same way she did with the goat, this time she splashes the blood upon the witnesses too. At last a beautiful horse is led to the woman. I want to look away, but Ivar leans forward whispering in my ear, “You must watch!”

 

I open my mouth to reply that I am afraid the horse might be a Kelpie from Alba, but the way he stares at me makes me swallow. My chest is heavy as I see the blood flowing from the horse’s wound. I shut my eyes tight trying to avoid my tears to run.

 

The woman in charge of the ceremony says. “Hail Freyr!”

 

The agonizing sound the animal makes it is almost unbearable. My heart is beating so fast that I feel my ribs aching. As I watch the people’s reaction, I feel like I am out of place. No one seems as frightened as I am.

 

The gyðja talks to Ivar. “It is the duty of the husband to protect his wife and family, defending her honor.” I wonder about which dangers Ivar is going to protect me. I want to say that I am not feeling safe right now as he made me watch death again.

 

Ivar walks with the help of his crutches to the altar, taking the sword with him.

 

His voice is husky as he studies my face. “I offer you my protection and this sword for the heir you will give me. I ask you to keep it safe for the future of our family.” I nod my agreement and Ivar handles me the sword. Is this sword the one Morven gifted him with?

 

He tilts his head to the altar to show me it is time for me to pick up the sword he gave me that morning. I feel my legs trembling as I walk to the altar. The coldness of the metal against my fingers makes me think about the many lives this sword took. Tears I have been holding start rolling down my flushed cheeks. It seems that the only way to build a future it’s by the sword. Ivar clears his throat and I jump. I wipe away my tears for I know he will be angry if he sees me crying. I turn to give him the blade.

 

After the exchanging of swords, it is time for the rings. The woman moves to the altar taking two rings. She holds them above her head, saying the words.

 

“I summon Vár to listen to your vows and make them unbreakable. Let this ring forever symbolize and be a reminder to everyone gathered here of the bond you have sealed today.” Now I understand why Ivar wanted me to marry him. He wants everyone to know I am his.

 

Ivar picks the ring and put it onto a finger on my left hand. I mirror his actions.

 

“Ivar, do you swear by the Gods that you want to marry this woman? Do you promise to care for her, defending her life and honor?” He smiles at me and his answer does not surprise me.

 

“I swear.” He kisses my hand and I feel blood rushing to my cheeks. It is time to say what he taught me.

 

“Do you swear you want to marry this man? Will you be loyal and honor him?” her voice is grave, and it reminds me of Astrid. The same worried expression on her face as if she is challenging me to disagree with Ivar.

 

“Yes!” my voice is low and I wonder why this simple word can make Ivar so happy.

 

 

“The Gods and the people assembled here recognize you as husband and wife. May the Gods bless you with children and happiness!” It takes all my strength not to tell him I am pregnant.

 

Ivar leans down to kiss me and I hope his Gods will keep the sweetness of his lips.

 

 

* * *

 

 

During the celebration, the animals that were sacrificed are roasted and the smell makes me uneasy. Astrid brings me mead and I am instructed to serve Ivar. He drinks from the chalice and passes the cup to me. I repeat his moves and he winks approving of my behavior. I feel a smile forming on my lips because it is the first time I feel like I am doing something right.

 

The gyðja remains standing. She is holding a hammer, the symbolic Mjölnir.

 

“May the hammer bless the bride! Lay Mjolnir on the maiden’s lap! In Thor and Frigga’s name, consecrate their union!” The woman that married us addresses the crowd.

 

Ivar places the hammer on my lap squeezing my thigh. I feel my core aching for him. It's like he can read my mind as he whispers to me, “Be patient! I will give you what you need.” My mouth opens slightly and Ivar takes it as an invitation to possess my lips. I do not know what he thinks I need.

 

 

* * *

 

 

That night he is back to the softness I experienced when he found me on the beach. His actions help me to let go of the tension I accumulated during the day. His mouth is all over my body and I gasp drowning in the sweet sensations. He stares deep into my eyes when he is inside of me and I realize I can not abandon him as Astrid suggested.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

When the morning comes, Ivar tries to wake me up with kisses. I feel limp and I want to sleep more, but Ivar is insistent, “It seems I drained you, my little thing.”

 

Ivar places his lips behind my ear. The vibration of his lips as he growls and whispers is making me squeeze my thighs together. He notices my movements and it looks like a praise for his mouth moves up and down my neck, “Tell me what you dreamed of.”

 

“Why?” I cannot understand why he is so inquisitive about what I might have dreamed. Ivar turns me to face him.

 

“The dream of a woman on her first night with her husband can tell us things about the future. Tell me, my love.” He is stroking my cheek with his thumb as I try to remember the images that filled my mind during the night.

 

“I saw nothing, Ivar.” His smile fades as he is once more disappointed. “But I do not have to see anything to know about our future.”

 

He contemplates me, fascinated and confused and I cup his face, “I am with child.” His mouth hangs open and for the first time, I find Ivar incapable to say anything.

 

I am biting the inside of my cheek as his silence is torturing. I need to know if he is pleased. I open my mouth to question him, but my doubts are silenced by a heated kiss. I smile against his lips aware that he is happy with me.

 

I do not tell him about the images of blood, tears, shields, and arrows. But not only sad images. I remember my dreams were filled with children chasing each other and chuckling near the lake. I saw Morven smiling at them hidden behind a rock. Ivar does need to know everything.

 


	5. Of The Sea and The Land

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fionnuala and Ivar try to find a middle ground as they deal with some pregnancy's fears. Fionnuala wants Morven to meet someone, but is afraid her friend's nature might be a risk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I included the talk about weregild and law after the 8th chapter, in which Fionnuala demonstrates knowledge of Ivar's customs. 
> 
> Among the Scandinavians of the Viking Age, honor was of paramount importance, both to the individual and to the family: "honor was a kind of equilibrium which a man could not allow to he disturbed. It was intolerable if you were not on even terms with society at large; if you and your family could be spoken of with scorn. Balance and good name were restored only with successful retaliation for insult or injury" (Foote and Wilson, The Viking Achievement, 428).  
> The nature of feud.
> 
> In this context, "retaliation" is a somewhat deceptive term, bringing to mind ideas of the lex talionis, the exact retribution of "an eye for an eye," however, in Germanic societies the retribution might very well be of much greater magnitude than the original insult or injury, with a slander being met by the sword before honor was satisfied. This pattern of redress often became a cycle between families, with revenge taken by one kindred, and a counter-revenge by the other, with no way of ending hostilities until time and generations wore away memories or until one lineage was dead. A deadly quarrel of this type was called feud, and was immortalized and glorified in epic poetry.
> 
>  
> 
> [Hólmgang and Einvigi: Scandinavian Forms of the Duel](http://www.vikinganswerlady.com/holmgang.shtml)
> 
>  
> 
> Just like a duel, regardless of social status, a person could be challenged to settle a dispute by means of the Holmgang. The duel usually took place within three to seven days after the challenge and if one didn’t show up, then the other was considered the winner of the dispute by default.
> 
> If it was the challenger of the holmgang that didn’t show up, then they would be outlawed and labeled as a ‘niðingr’ (a coward that had no honor and was beneath everyone else – the lowest of low).
> 
> In some cases, a capable warrior could stand in behalf of a clearly outclassed participant of a holmgang. A person’s more capable son or someone from their clan to champion on their behalf.  
> The results of a holmgang was not considered murder and thus a weregild was not required to be paid by the victor, even though it was seen in the film “The 13th Warrior,” the victor of a duel had paid weregild after winning a duel.  
> [Viking Duels](http://spangenhelm.com/viking-duels/)
> 
>  
> 
> You can read more about the topic **[here](http://spangenhelm.com/weregild-slayers-debt-kindred-slain/)** and **[here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Weregild)**

* * *

 

 

Ivar's demands grow as much as my belly. One night he surprises me, “I think you should eat meat. The baby might be weak if you keep eating only fish and on some days the fishermen will not be able to bring any."

 

Ivar lifts his hand to stroke my cheek when he notices my eyes widening, “Do you want to take the risk?”

 

My hands are trembling against my stomach as I think Ivar might be right because our child is half human. It is possible that he demands meat to survive. I cannot be selfish. That is how I found myself nodding at his suggestion.

 

He quickly takes one piece of roasted meat from his plate. He caresses my lips with his thumb, his smile is warm and reminds me of when he found me on the beach.

 

I open my mouth slightly and he pushes the meat softly against my tongue. I immediately feel my stomach forming a knot, but I will not spit out something that can help my child to grow stronger. I try to focus on the well being of my child as my jaw trembles to chew the meat. My eyes burn when it is time to swallow. I close my eyes imagining a plump baby in my arms.

 

My reward comes with strong kicks and the meat does not taste so terrible against my tongue anymore.

 

All mornings I wake up in a cold and empty bed and I start worrying Ivar is tired of my mistakes and failures. When he comes back at night, the knot in my throat loosens a little.

 

Astrid does her best to relieve me from the thoughts that cloud my mind. She talks about how her husband and son died during raids and the loneliness that filled her days.

 

“My husband never made the way back home and I did not have the chance to bury him. Some nights I have the most terrible dreams in which his body is exposed to the animals wherever he fell. I ask myself if he is Valhalla as he always wanted. Life is short, Fionnuala. We must seek happiness while we are here.” She smiles sadly, and I wonder what she wants to tell me. It looks like a warning.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sometimes my dreams are filled with images of Ivar rejecting our child because the baby is not like him. I wake up sweating and crying silently because I do not want to tell Ivar why I am apprehensive. The only thing that can make me go back to sleep is when I start talking to my belly and my child moves in response, “Do not worry little one. I will love you either way.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

One morning Ivar wakes me up with a victorious smile on his lips and I am curious to find out the reason, “I created something!” he is standing with his crutches and pointing with his chin to a little boat?

 

I do not know what it is or why he seems so excited to know my thoughts about the object, “Do you like it?” I leave the bed and kneel to inspect his creation.

 

“What is it?” I look up at him and Ivar laughs.

 

“It is a crib. The baby will sleep in there.” He rolls his eyes at my ignorance and I feel my hands sweating for I thought our son would sleep with me, enjoying the warmth of my body as he has been doing all those months.

 

“But, my sisters…” Thinking about them makes me bite my lip not to cry. I wonder if they still miss me as I miss them. Ivar glares at me, “My sisters always kept their babies near them. Especially after the birth when they are vulnerable.” I plead with him, but Ivar only shakes his head.

 

“Do not you think it is a beautiful work? I spent months carving the wood.” He walks to me, burying his nose in my hair and inhaling deep.

 

“It is, Ivar. It is beautiful. I just thought…” I stutter trying to find words that will help me to convince him and to avoid offending Ivar, “I thought you would like to have the baby near us. For protection.” I press a kiss on his cheek and Ivar chuckles.

 

“We shall see, then. I do not want to share my bed with anyone but you.” He grins at me and we are soon back in bed.

 

 

* * *

 

 

While Ivar inspects the training of his men, I stay with Astrid to help with the preparation of food and sewing. My baby will need clothes. I smile imagining how it will be to hold my baby in my arms.

 

“Do you still have a family, Astrid?” I ask her as I want to know more about the woman that has been like a mother to me. It pains me to think about my sisters.

 

“No. My mother died of sickness and my father was murdered by a neighbor that wanted our lands to make his farm bigger.” Astrid confesses and I see her eyes shining with unshed tears.

 

“This is so sad, Astrid.” I hold her hand and Astrid smiles at me.

 

“Don’t be. That man paid.” I tilt my head in confusion, watching the way Astrid’s jaw is clenching.

 

“Paid? I can’t understand.” Astrid grins at me.

 

“He paid with blood, Fionnuala. I had to wait for years, but he paid. When my father died, my husband’s family protected me. Gunnar and I fell in love and married. It was natural…” I see the way Astrid's face is lightening up as she thinks about her youth and her husband. She loves him still, even in death, “He promised me he would avenge my father and he did. Gunnar gave me my revenge…” Astrid is breathing heavily and I interrupt her.

 

“Revenge?” I look at Astrid with furrowed brows. Her word is strange to me.

 

“Yes. That man’s son was as ambitious as him and wanted to take control of the lands as soon as possible. He couldn’t wait for his father’s death. So, when Gunnar challenged the man and killed him, his son was more than pleased to accept my father’s farm as weregild for his father’s death.” Astrid burst into laughter and my jaw drops.

 

“We… wergil?” I stutter with this word that seems to please Astrid. She cups my face.

 

" _Weregild_ , Fionnuala. When a man is murdered, it is opened the possibility of an endless feud between the families involved. A son will want to avenge a death, and the other family will want to spill blood as well until no one remembers how it started. To prevent needless loss of lives, there is the possibility of paying a portion of gold, land, or even marriage between enemies to end a conflict.”

 

“So, this man’s son accepted the farmer that caused your father’s death as payment for your revenge?” I press my lips together, looking at Astrid through narrowed eyes.

 

“Yes. In the end, the man’s ambition caused his own downfall. His son feared I would claim the farmer as I was now married and not an orphan with no family to protect me.”

 

“I see… I think.” I sigh, trying to understand how it’s so easy for the humans to put a price on life. To take people away from their home and negotiate their value, or to kill and pay in gold for this action. But this will be my son’s world, and I must learn how it works.

 

“I need you to teach me everything, Astrid.”

 

“I’ll help you.” Astrid softly squeezes my hand.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The wave of pain is hitting her again and Fionnuala thinks she is drowning as her ears can't register the sounds around her. She wonders what Morven would say if she was there, probably curse and shout at Ivar, telling him Fionnuala should give birth near the water. Fionnuala laughs at the thought, but her relaxed expression is quickly replaced by a grimace when her muscles start tightening once more.

 

Fionnuala is exhausted after walking for what looked like ages, hoping the baby would come. Now she is lying with her head on Ivar's lap. She looks at him, finding comfort, even though his voice seems muffled. His hands are gentle brushing over the hair from her forehead and holding her hand whenever her face contorts with agony. She smiles at him when the aching declines, knowing that every moment of intense pain is a step closer to having their baby in her arms.

 

“It is almost time to hold our baby.” She whispers, and Ivar leans down to kiss her.

 

Astrid tells her to change her position and Fionnuala finds herself kneeling on the flour with Ivar watching her. Astrid is ready to catch the baby and instructs Fionnuala to push when the pain comes.

 

 _How will I do this?_ Fionnuala thinks the contraction of her muscles will make it impossible to push the baby out. Ivar cups her face whispering encouraging words.

 

And when the wave comes Fionnuala remembers not to fight against it. Her body awakens for the memories of swimming in the ocean and soon the primal cry of her baby is heard. She smiles through the tears feeling she won and the sea was with her all the time. Sweat and salty tears are not always a tragedy.

 

When she offers the baby her breast for the first time, Fionnuala cries out of joy that she is made of water that will nurture him. Her worries about how the baby would look like fades for he is from land and ocean in equal measure, a delicate skin between each of his toes is the proof her line was not erased and forgotten.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When our child is nine days old, Ivar assembles a crowd to fill the hall. I was not feeling comfortable with so many noises around us. It is so difficult to keep him still against my breast as he is searching for some comfort only my milk can provide.

 

“Ivar?” I try to tell him the chattering is not good for our son, but his features show he is proud everyone is here to see another of his accomplishments. It is like he is showing the riches from a new raid. My heart gets heavy with the thought he is presenting my child as he would with captured slaves and stolen gold.

 

I am sitting beside him as my voice is not enough to attract his attention, I hold his hand, “Ivar?” I gulp as he looks at me with his jaw clenching.

 

“What?” his voice is raspy and I breathe deep to gather the courage to defend what I think it is the best.

 

“The baby is scared with so many people… he is hungry too…” I lean forward to whisper against his ear because I know he will not take it lightly if I defy him in front of his men.

 

“He will get used to being surrounded by loyal men. It is time to start showing my heir.” He raises his voice addressing the crowd that cheers.

 

“The Gods blessed us with a son. I have a healthy heir." Ivar looks at me and I place the baby on his lap. He cradles our son with his left arm as he sprinkles water on the baby’s face.

 

“I name him Ragnald in honor of my father. The great Ragnar Lodbrok. May the Gods bless him with the bravery and mind necessary so men will talk about him for the many generations to come.”

 

My baby starts crying and I stretch my arms for Ivar to give him back to me. He tilts his head seeing my chest rising and falling. My nipples are hurting and leaking. I know Ragnald needs me. At last Ivar hands me our son and I walk to our chamber to feed him.

 

A few weeks later Ivar goes on a new raid and I see the opportunity to present my child not for a crowd, but for a dear friend. I am insecure about what will be her reaction, but she would not harm my baby, would she? His blood is half sea. I cover him with a light blanket, heading to the lake.

 

“You will meet a great friend of mine, Ragnald.” The baby is yawning, and I laugh, “Do not be lazy, she will want to talk to you.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Morven is finishing her meal when she hears footsteps. She does not have to look up to guess it is Fionnuala. Her scent is not strange, but she is not alone and despite her full stomach, Morven feels her mouth watering by the alluring smell.

 

“Hello, Morven!” Fionnuala does not come to the edge of the lake because she wants to be sure Morven will not hurt her son.

 

Morven turns around and her bloody face scares Fionnuala. The mermaid can hear the frenetic heartbeat coming from Fionnuala’s ribcage and it saddens her that her friend fears her. She smiles at Fionnuala, but the way her arms tighten around the little bundle tells Morven she is still scared.

 

 _I think I should wash the blood from my face._ Morven thinks.

 

“What is this that you carry with so much concern?” Morven smiles again satisfied that Fionnuala looks more relaxed. It is not possible to smell her fear anymore.

 

“Not what,” Fionnuala starts brushing the baby's cheek, “It is who. Do you want to meet my son, Morven?” Fionnuala search for her eyes.

 

Morven wonders if she will hate the baby as much as she despises his father. She does not know if his half seafolk’s blood is enough to eclipse her constant hunger or fury at the way Ivar treats Fionnuala.

 

Fionnuala is breathing heavily and Morven notices her hesitation and it hurts her.

 

“You can trust me. I would never do something to hurt you.” Morven pledges sincerely and Fionnuala’s lips curl up in a smile that makes her eyes shiny.

 

Fionnuala walks slowly, sitting on the edge of the lake uncovering Ragnald, “My son, Ragnald.”

 

Morven does not know what amazes her the most. The sweet and proud smile on Fionnuala’s lips or the tender flesh of the chubby baby. His cheeks look so tasty and Morven laughs when the boy hiccups.

 

“It is a beautiful baby, Fionnuala. Are you happy?” her eyes are narrowed, and Fionnuala feels guilty that she cannot answer her right away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Old Norse literature is generally quite reticent about issues of reproduction and any medical issues which might accompany a pregnancy. Women were the only care-givers at a birth, and a midwife or official witness of a birth was termed bjargrýgr, "helping-woman". A description of the little that is known about childbirth during the Viking Age is summarized by Jenny Jochens:
> 
> "The birth itself was expressed in the image of the woman 'becoming lighter' (verða léttari). What little is revealed about the birth process suggests that delivery techniques were universal and changed little over time. Only women were present. The normal birth position was for the woman to kneel on the floor, with helpers ready at her knees or supporting her arms. As the birth progressed, she would shift to a knee-elbow position, and the child would be received from behind. Runes and songs were offered as age-old remedies for difficult births, probably performed by a helping woman (bjargrýgr) trained through experience and apprenticeship. Although the sagas of Icelanders report surprisingly few cases of death in childbirth and no difficult births, the miracles performed by Icelandic saints narrate many realistic stories of prolonged and difficult births, dismemberment of infants, and problems with lactation." 
> 
> "The assistance rendered by the bjargrýgr or midwife went beyond the basic mechanics of delivery. The "helping-woman" was also responsible for magical assistance to ease the birth." [Midwives and Childbirth](http://www.vikinganswerlady.com/medicine.shtml#Midwives)
> 
> One practice that can be found in Sweden was done by a woman in her 7th month of pregnancy. The mother-to-be would draw blood from her finger with a needle and use the blood to draw protective runes on a piece of wood, before spinning three lengths of linen thread (Viking Answer Lady, 2012). One length of thread would be left white, another dyed red, and the third dyed black, while the rune blooded wood would be burned and the ashes added to beer or mead (Viking Answer Lady, 2012). The sections of linen thread were burned apart into 7" threads using a brand from the fire, soaked in boiling salt water, and then left to dry in the branches of a tree for 3 days (Viking Answer Lady, 2012). The threads were carefully saved until the day of the birth when the black threads, representing death and bad luck, were burned and the ashes buried, the white thread was used to tie the cord at birth, and the red was strung with a bead [probably amber] and tied on the baby's wrist for protection (Viking Answer Lady, 2012).  
> [Pregnancy and Birth in Norse Tradition](http://lairbhan.blogspot.com.br/2012/12/pregnancy-and-birth-in-norse-tradition.html)
> 
> "The mother absolutely had to deliver the baby within her household, so once the baby was due in about a month, she did not travel far beyond her home. The father also never left. Even if the was of high-status, he would not leave the village/town/city once the baby was due in a month. This was because he had to be at the birth. If he weren’t, then he could not fulfill his side of tradition and then we’d just have this tiny baby existing as a nonperson, because he did not have the rights of a human until his father accepted him (naming ritual). The father also absolutely had to be present for the actual birth–and I don’t mean in the same building or right outside. Law and tradition and the gods required that he was in the same room."
> 
> After the actual birth, the mother and baby were both cleaned. The child might have been wiped down (and his nose and mouth cleared for breathing, if necessary), and the mother might have been given a bath. Then the mother officially accepted the baby by nursing it at her breast for the first time. With witnesses that included the father and whoever else had been present at the birth.
> 
> After nine days (which gave the parents plenty of time to assemble further witnesses and argue over names), the father took the baby on his knee, named it were already there, and sprinkled it with water (a ritual called vatni ausinn).
> 
> Names were very important to the Vikings. Children could be named for ancestors, to invoke the protection of that person who had passed. Children might be named for mythology, desirable traits or certain blessings.
> 
> After these rituals, the baby was a full member of the household and would be entitled to inheritance and other rights. He would also have more family rights when he became an adult (twelve to fourteen years of age) and would have a say in household affairs.  
> [Babies and Vikings](http://dyannehs.tumblr.com/post/82616037578/babies-and-vikings) more [ here](http://nordicwiccan.blogspot.com.br/2012/12/rites-of-passage-birth.html) and [here](http://odin.heathenthing.org/?page_id=99)


	6. Facing The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ivar and Fionnuala receive important guests that can change everything as they face parenting struggles.

* * *

 

 

A few months after our son's birth, we received a guest of honor, Erik. An Earl by what Ivar told me. He said I was to treat the man and his entourage with the absolute respect because he wanted to forge an alliance with Erik. Ivar wanted more warriors to conquer more land and Erik could provide this to him.

 

Astrid and the other servants helped me to prepare a big feast to welcome Erik, his family, and warriors. We provided a house for them to sleep in privacy too. Not forgetting the men that were coming with him. It was an exhausting task and I carried Ragnald with me all day. As much as I loved feeding Ragnald, it was demanding and all I wanted was to sleep. But it would be a long night until I could rest.

 

I was feeding Ragnald when Ivar called me, “They are here. We must go.” I do not remember seeing Ivar so excited in the last weeks. With the exhaustive task of taking care of a baby, I have not been answering his passion as ardently as he would like me to. I can see the disappointment in his eyes when I leave him in bed to go to my crying baby at night.

 

“Let me put him to sleep and I will soon be there…” I reply covering my breast and rocking Ragnald in my arms.

 

“Astrid can do this. Come!” he rolls his eyes and I notice Astrid sighing as she walks to me with her arms stretched to take Ragnald. As I walk away his sobs bring tears to my eyes.

 

“Wipe away your tears. We do not want the guests wondering if I treat you badly, do we?” Ivar glares at me and I nod lifting my hand to comply with his request.

 

 

* * *

 

 

During the feast Ivar barely acknowledged me. He was focused on impressing Erik with the tales of his raids. Stories that I have witnessed, but from a distinct perspective. One that was not as glorious as his descriptions. Audhild, Erik’s wife was talking to me as our husbands kept trying to impress each other.

 

“You are so fortunate to be Ivar’s wife. His name is famous even back home. I have heard you just had a baby. It must be exhausting.”

 

I can see she is trying to please me, maybe hoping, I will convince Ivar to give them some advantage. As much as she looks sympathetic to my situation, something makes me want to be away from her and go back to my baby.

 

“It is. Do not you have children?” I try to engage in the conversation, so Ivar will not be displeased that I was not attentive to his guests.

 

“Oh no. Not yet. I told Erik that I want to give birth to Princes and Princesses. He is determined to make himself a King. Being partners with your husband can grant him fame and wealth to afford his plans.” The way she smiles makes me shiver because I have been seeing the things people are capable of to achieve power.

 

I miss the warmth of Ragnald’s body next to my bosom. My nipples start leaking and I do not have to wonder for too long if my boy misses me too.

 

“Ragnald is hungry, Fionnuala.” Astrid addresses me, but her eyes are fixed on Ivar as if seeking for his permission. He dismisses her with a wave of his hand.

 

“I must leave you all for a moment.” I notice Ivar looking at me for a moment as I leave.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ragnald is clamping down on my nipple and pulling back. He wags his head back and forth and his actions make me grimace and grunt in pain. It seems Ivar is not the only one disappointed with me.

 

“I am sorry. I am here now, Ragnald.” He looks at me with his big and dark eyes and I see a smile forming on the lips that are still connected to my nipples. I smile back at him as he is sucking gentler now, “I love you.” I lean down to kiss his forehead as he nurses.

 

I walk in circles rocking him back and forth the way I know it will elude him to sleep. His head is resting on my shoulder and I close my eyes enjoying his scent. It takes all my strength not to bring him with me to bed. But I do not want to confront Ivar tonight. I imagine he is delighted with the praises which had been lavished upon him by Erik and Audhild.

 

When I walk in, the hall is almost empty. Erik had fallen asleep on a bench, and Audhild is still talking to Ivar. She is whispering into his ear, leaning close and I feel a knot in my throat. Ivar is smiling at her and I am curious to know why he finds her words amusing. His face freezes in this look of both satisfaction and alarm as he looks up in my direction.

 

“Are you coming to bed, Ivar?” I lift my trembling hand as an invitation. As if noticing my anxiety, Ivar smirks. Audhild nods, and walks to the bench her husband is sleeping on. She tries to shake Erik to wake up but sighs defeated as he does not move.

 

“I will command the servants to help you to put him to bed, Audhild.” Ivar shouts coming closer to me. The way he grins is a sign he will try to take me once we are alone, but I do not feel like returning his attention. I am not only exhausted, the way I caught him so intimate with Audhild makes me want Ivar away from me.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ivar stares at me as he undresses, and I feel my heart beating fast. I know what he wants from me, but I do not feel like I can show him love or reciprocate his desire when I am angry and drained both physically and emotionally.

 

He leaves his crutches leaning against the headboard, crawling into bed with me. I gulp as his hand goes to my face. His fingers are delicate against my cheek, but I do not feel the usual throbbing between my legs.

 

He leans forward pushing me down onto the furs, and for the first time, the full weight of his body resting on my torso makes me tremble with something different than anticipation.

 

His face is hovering over me, his nose only inches from mine. I hold my breath not to give away I am afraid. It seems he realizes my discomfort but thinks it is because he is crushing me. He braces himself on his elbows, with his hands at either side of my face.

 

He combs his fingers through my hair, his eyes glowing an otherworldly blue in the candle lights. The gesture is sensitive, and I want to forget the anger and welcome his caresses. One of his hands finds its way to my groin and I moan, reminding how much he likes when I make noises. Ivar smiles approvingly, then I lift my hand to cup his face bringing him to kiss me. He groans against my lips and I feel his hardness pressing into me through the barrier of our clothes.

 

I spread my legs wider to give him more access and Ivar moans. His patience is wearing thin and he is soon loosening the laces at his fly. We are both panting, and I help him to pull his breeches down with my hands and feet against his arse.

 

He starts to pull up my nightgown with his other hand and my mind goes to the scene in the hall. Would he do the same to Audhild if I had not interrupted them? I feel my muscles tightening with the thought. Ivar growls when his fingers, once more, find me dry.

 

"Again?" He spits into his hand and begins stroking himself.

 

He rubs his hand over his mouth, gathering spit in his palm. He spread it over himself slowly, smirking at me as he does. He repeats the action to wet his fingers, reaching down to tease my entrance, fingertips sliding in shallow twists, spreading the edge of my opening.

 

Ragnald starts crying and I try to push Ivar. He bares his teeth and growls deep in his throat, "Ivar? Please..."

 

He let go of me with a frustrated sigh and I hear him cursing as I bring Ragnald to my breast. I wonder if he regrets following me to our bed this night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Audhild](http://www.babynames.net/names/audhild) originates in Old Norse and means "fighting for wealth".


	7. Everything Changes (Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Threats of violence against children and cheating.

 

* * *

 

 

I wake up to find my bed cold and empty. Once more he woke up and didn’t bother to kiss me awake, as he usually did. But that was before Ragnald started demanding the attention that was exclusively for Ivar. I feel a lump in my throat as I try to think about what I should do. I feel like Ivar is slipping through my fingers and I can’t do anything but watch.

 

I walk to Ragnald’s crib, finding him still asleep. His pouty lips are slightly open, and I feel his bronze cheeks are heated as I run my fingers over his face. His long eyelashes flutter, but he doesn’t wake up. I smooth back his sweaty hair off his forehead and Ragnald blinks his dark eyes at me, yawning. My heart swells with love when Ragnald smiles at me, bubbling. If there is some certainty in my life, it is Ragnald’s love and how vulnerable he is. I cannot fail him.

 

“Are you hungry? Tell mother!” I whisper, leaning down to take him from the crib. Ragnald starts babbling, and I laugh through the tears that are blurring my vision. Feeling his warm body against mine soothes me. I uncover my breast and he takes my nipple eagerly, the tingling sensation takes over as my milk starts flowing to his mouth. Ragnald places his little hand against my breast, his fingers stroking my skin softly. He smiles at me while my milk makes our bond unbreakable.

 

 

* * *

 

 

I walk to the hall with Ragnald in my arms, but I cannot find Ivar. He must be with Erik, discussing their alliance and what they expect from each other. I sit at the table and Astrid brings me some bread and goat milk. I immediately notice she is acting strangely. She avoids my eyes, looking at her feet and barely acknowledges Ragnald. I know how much Astrid loves having Ragnald in her arms while I’m busy with another task. But this time she is hesitant to stretch out her arms to take him from me, while I eat

 

“What is wrong, Astrid?” I whisper searching for her face, but she just shakes her head. When I notice she is trying to walk out, I rise to my feet to hold her wrist, “Tell me what is happening.” I yell and Ragnald starts crying. Astrid finally faces me, and I notice her eyes are brimming with unshed tears.

 

“It is nothing… I swear.” Her voice comes brittle and her shoulders are shaking. I feel ashamed that I caused two of the people that I love the most to suffer.

 

“I am sorry, Astrid.” She nods and opens her arms, so we can console each other. I sniff against into the crook of her neck and Astrid massages my back. Ragnald is silent, protected between us.

 

She pulls away, lifting her hand to wipe away my tears, “He doesn’t deserve you.” Astrid mutters and I feel my heart racing with her insinuation.

 

“Do you know where is Ivar, Astrid?” My voice comes out as a whimper.

 

“I… I can’t tell you. You shouldn’t worry about it. He will come back. They always do.” Astrid cups my face, looking from me to Ragnald.

 

“And we are supposed to accept them back as if nothing happened, huh?” I shake my head as my lips curl in repugnance.

 

“You can divorce him, but where would you go?” Astrid asks warily, running her finger over Ragnald’s eyebrows. My baby smiles at her and I know that no matter what happens to me, Ragnald will have Astrid to look after him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

After the _náttmál_ , Astrid follows me to the market. I carry Ragnald with me as always. His eyes follow the crowd in curiosity. He is growing so fast and I wonder what kind of man he will be.

 

At distance I see Erik repairing his ships with his men for the next raid with Ivar. My heart skips a beat when I can’t see Ivar with them. Astrid notices the direction I’m looking at.

 

“He must be with someone else… maybe with the blacksmith.” Astrid is vacillating, but there’s no doubt in my mind where or with who Ivar is. I just hope I’m the only one suspicious.

 

I ask one of Ivar’s men to help Astrid with the things we bought in the market. I walk to the blacksmith and I’m not surprised when I can’t find him there, “Have you seen my husband this morning, Harald?”

 

“He was here a few hours ago, but then he mentioned he would cheek the defenses. I suppose he is seeing the walls, before the raid. To secure your safety and his son’s while he is away.” Harald smiles at Ragnald, being rewarded with more babbling, “This little boy will soon be talking, huh.” Harald pulls some funny faces, making Ragnald laughs.

 

I walk along the walls and I still have no sight of Ivar. Then I hear voices coming out of a small cabin, “I knew you could last that long.” The laughter that follows this statement makes my hair stand on end.

 

I turn around to find Audhild holding on Ivar’s arm as his smirk turns into discomfort. Ivar clears his throat and Audhild’s eyes find mine, finally spotting me watching them. She doesn’t back away as I would expect. The woman looks at me from head to toe, grinning. Then she walks away. My eyes follow her, then I glance at Ivar. He motions to come closer, but I shake my head. My vision is blurred by tears as Ragnald stirs. My son must be hungry, and I have no strength to discuss with Ivar, even less in public.

 

When I arrive home, Astrid is waiting for me at the door, “Where were you?” She notices my teary eyes, but I dismiss her with a wave of my hand. I walk to my quarters to feed Ragnald.

 

I’m watching my son’s jaw working lazily as the milk goes into his mouth. He is exhausted. I get to my feet to make him burp before I can put him into his crib. That’s when I hear the sound of his crutches echoing in the tense atmosphere.

 

“We must talk!” I don’t turn around to face him. Ragnald is yawning in my arms, “LOOK AT ME!” Ivar shouts and Ragnald starts crying desperately.

 

I turn to glare at Ivar, who is now watching our child’s desolation, “I didn’t want to scare him, or to hurt you.” Ivar mutters, his jaw trembling.

 

He helps himself to sit on the edge of our bed, propping his crutches against the wall. I’m still trying to soothe Ragnald while I see Ivar is now leaning his elbows on his knees. He is breathing heavily, and I can see the tension on his shoulders as he runs his hands through his forehead. It almost makes me walk to him. Until he grunts.

 

“If you hadn’t denied me, this wouldn’t be happening.” He lifts his face to me and my throat is tightening with the absurd of his accusation. I see Ragnald is asleep, so I place him into his crib before I turn to face Ivar.

 

“How dare you to accuse me of your weaknesses? It’s not my fault that you’re easily fooled by flattery.” Ivar clamps his fingers into white-knuckled vise-grips.

 

“I’m not weak.” He says in a low, threatening tone.

 

“You succumbed to the first woman that offered herself while I’m exhaustively taking care of the son you claim to love so much.” My hands are shaking as I glare at him.

 

“I am a man,” Ivar shouts and I let out a huff.

 

“There are some animals that compete with their offspring for the female’s attention… to the point, they kill their own babies. Would you put your son in danger because I’ve been too exhausted to give you the same attention as before?” Ivar says nothing, his eyes go to the crib and back to me.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“All he ever deserved was to be meat to feed my hunger.” Morven is grimacing as soon as I tell her what happened.

 

“What will I do, Morven?” I sniff, watching Ragnald sleeping in my arms.

 

“You must find your skin and leave him,” Morven shouts and I look at her with tears running down my cheeks.

 

“I wish it could be that simple. I cannot leave my son behind. I don’t trust Ivar will look after him. This woman is ambitious. She might harm my son if I leave.” I gulp hard, thinking about what would be of my son.

 

“Run! Go back to the hall!” Morven hisses before diving into the water. I can’t understand why she hid until a rough voice startles me.

 

“Here you are, with his son. That’s perfect.” Erik is standing a few meters from where we are, an axe in his trembling hands. I can imagine he is inebriated by the way he is slurring with the words, and struggling to keep his balance as he walks to us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Fionnuala mentions animals killing the puppies, she might be referring to the dolphins or sea otters:
> 
> It takes a lot of resources to feed an otter - they need to eat approximately 25% of their body weight every single day. When food is in short supply things can get ugly. Some males will hold otter pups hostage until the mother pays a ransom of food to the male. 
> 
> But they don't just kidnap babies. Male otters will find a juvenile harbor seal and mount it, as if he were mating with a female otter. Unfortunately, part of the mating process involves holding the female’s head under water which ultimately kills the seal pups (and over 10% of female otters).
> 
> What I find important to notice is that the word rape is not appropriate to animals as it has moral conotations from human society.
> 
>  
> 
> [Animals can be giant "jerks"](http://www.iflscience.com/plants-and-animals/animals-can-be-giant-jerks/)
> 
>  
> 
> \--Dolphins kill their own babies. Baby dolphins have washed up alongside the dead porpoises, and some scientists think that all the porpoise-slaughter was just practice for some old-fashioned infanticide . For other mammals like lions, killing the babies makes the females immediately ready for the next pregnancy, and maybe that's the case with dolphins, too. 
> 
>  
> 
> [The Dark Secrets That Dolphins Don't Want You to Know](http://www.slate.com/human-interest/2018/01/a-gentle-ode-to-all-the-baby-accessories-designed-to-look-like-military-gear.html)


	8. Everything Changes (Part Two)

 

* * *

 

 

 

As I enter the cabin I can hear they are both panting. The rhythmic sound of skin slapping against skin reminds me of our nights together. Moans along with whines and grunts help to muffle my footsteps. I swallow hard, resolute that I will not cry for Ivar anymore. At least not in front of anyone.

 

“Oh, Ivar! I doubt that strange wife of yours does the things I do to you. I can bear you strong Princes and Princesses.” Audhild is on her back, moaning while Ivar slams his hips against hers.

 

“Will you make me your Queen? I’m tired of my drunk husband and his lack of ambition. He can’t make me feel this way. Only you.” She grunts as Ivar’s thrusts increase in ferocity, “Get rid of your wife and that annoying baby and I’ll be entirely yours.”

 

“Shut your mouth!” Ivar shouts, his hand going to her throat. His grip is so strong that Audhild’s face reddens and her eyes are wide and rolling, “I’ll never make you a Queen when you act as a common wench. You’re only a hole in which I can wet my prick.”

 

I throw the bloody burden at them. Ivar loses his grip on her neck and Audhild screams in terror. Her husband’s head facing her.

 

“What did you do? Are you crazy? You killed him.” Ivar yells, sitting on the bed while Audhild is trying to cover her naked form with the furs.

 

“I think her husband noticed how close you two are, then he tried to kill me and my baby.” Ivar stares at Audhild who looks as surprised as my husband.

 

“You can either confirm my version of how your husband came here to overthrow my husband, using you to seduce him…” I lean closer to her, “Or the next head might be yours if you don’t disappear from our lives.” I glare at her, watching delightedly as Audhild trembles.

 

“Then I'm left with nothing. What would be my gain?” Audhild hisses through clenched teeth, but I can see her fear. It’s like I can smell it in the air.

 

“You can leave with _weregild_ for your husband’s death and your reputation untouched, as your people will believe your poor husband is guilty. Maybe you can even marry again.” I see she is considering my arguments, “Or you might want everyone spitting on you wherever you go, as they will know you laid with a man that was not your husband. Your name will be like a curse.” My smile is wicked and Audhild gasps.

 

“The choice is yours. Either way, I win.” I sneer and walk out the door, not looking back at any of them. My son is waiting for me.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ivar is sitting by my side after he ordered Erik’s men to come to the hall as well as his own warriors. I can feel the tension as Erik’s warriors are searching for their leader. A man clears his throat, “King Ivar? Forgive my interruption, but I can’t see my Earl.”

 

Ivar opens his mouth to speak, but I interrupt him. Rising to my feet I question the man, “What is your name?”

 

“My name is Arne, my Queen.” The man places his hand on his chest.

 

“I’m sorry to bring sad news for all the honorable men gathered here. Your Earl is dead.” Ivar holds my wrist to make me sit but releases me when I glare at him. The crowd is whispering, and I lift my hand to request silence.

 

“Erik came here with a scheme that involved the killing of innocents. He wanted to overthrow King Ivar,” I pause waiting for my words to have the effect, “and for that, he tried to kill me and my son, while his wife would be distracting and seducing my husband.”

 

“How can we believe this?” Arne asks warily.

 

“We have his wife as a witness. If it was not for the noble Audhild, I would be dead alongside my baby now. Audhild warned us about her husband’s treachery. And my husband could protect us as he should.” I gesture to where Audhild is sitting. She stands up, watching me cautiously. I nod at her, encouraging the woman to speak.

  
“What the Queen says is true. Erik wanted to be King…” Her voice is faltering, and she searches for my eyes. Seeing the coldness on my face, Audhild keeps talking, “Erik came here with the purpose to kill King Ivar and his family and claim his wealth and lands. I would never agree with a plan that involved the massacre of children and women.” She sits, covering her face with her hands while her sobs fill the hall.

 

“Out of respect for Audhild, Erik will have a proper burial and we will pay the _weregild_. That’s what the law commands. The men that want to return with Erik’s widow are free. No harm will befall you.” I see the warriors nodding approvingly and I smile at them.

 

“Those who want to stay and raid, as it was agreed, are welcome and will be treated accordingly. Your families can come to live here as well.” The crowd roars and cheers and I can see out of the corner of my eye that Ivar is paralyzed. I raise my chalice to offer a toast, “Sköl.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The feast has finished and I’m now rocking my baby in my arms. When Ivar enters, I gently lay Ragnald in his crib.

 

“You made me proud tonight. You inspired those men and brought them to my household. Our household, wife.” Ivar tilts forward on his crutches until his face is close to mine and I flinch. A gesture that would make me tremble with anticipation makes me want to throw up now.

 

_What happened to us?_

 

“Do you think I did this because of you? Out of jealousy, or to make you proud of me?” A sharpness rises in my throat, bursting out as a scoff, “I don’t want your love anymore. I finally realized you can’t understand or feel love. Erik could have killed me and your son while you were sweating between that woman’s legs.” I can feel my face contorting in disgust.

 

“I’m sorry, Fionn…” Ivar gulps looking from me to the crib, “How?” He laments, but I will not hold back my fury.

 

“I wonder how long you would be sorry if Erik had killed us. All I have to say is that the sea has its secrets, Ivar.” I confess dryly.

 

“Fionn…” Ivar whispers, adjusting his weight on one crutch and trying to lift his hand to my face. I slap his hand away from me.

 

“You only understand terror and pain, so I want you to be terrified to the point you will never risk my son’s life again.” I speak with a coldness that not even I can recognize, “You can sleep with whoever you want, as long as you are discreet and cautious not to put my son in danger ever again.” I give a bitter laughter, then look straight into his eyes. Ivar is watching me speechless for the first time.

 

"He is my son too." Ivar grunts with a pained expression.

 

"You were not there to protect him as a father should." I scold him.

 

“Do you remember our first morning as husband and wife? Your insistence to know what I have dreamed of?” Ivar nods with a little smile on his lips, but when he sees I am not returning the gesture, he looks down, “I lied when I told you I had not dreamed of anything.” Ivar glances at me perplexed, mouth hanging open.

 

“What…What have you dreamed of?” He stutters for the first time in front of me and my heart swells with pride. I will never be helpless around him again.

 

“I dreamed about children playing near the lake.” I whisper making Ivar smile, then I crush his hopes with a smirk, “but this morning I woke up from a different dream.” Watching Ivar’s lips trembling in terror send shivers through my skin that are different from any sensation I have ever felt.

 

“Tell me!” He begs me, and I realize I want to hear this desolate tone in his voice many times in the future.

 

I burst into laughter, throwing my head back, “I dreamed about Ragnald growing up to be a man far better than you. Our only child, Ivar. You will never get to touch me again.” I spit the words with a rage I never thought I would feel. I walk to bed and Ivar follows me, leaning his crutches against the wall.

 

“You must be out of your mind if you think I will not touch my wife.” He yells, but I see the hesitation in his eyes.

 

“I will be your wife and Queen for the rest of the world, but that’s all,” I announce with a steady voice.

 

“For how long?” Ivar grunts, running his fingers through his thick hair.

 

“For how long my son needs me…” Ivar glares at me, his fingers curling into fists

 

“Are you saying you will leave eventually?” Ivar laughs, and I tilt my head, “You have nowhere to go and you can get back to the sea. Have you forgotten I still have your sealskin?” I brush a finger over my lower lip, glancing at Ivar from over my shoulder with narrowed eyes.

 

“Do you think you can hide it that well?” I provoke him, and my plan works as I had planned. Later at night, when Ivar thinks I’m asleep, he pulls his body out of the bed to the ground, crawling outside. I only have to follow him discreetly. So predictable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I'll explain how Fionnuala could save herself and Ragnald in the next chapter.**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>    
>  **Do you think she will leave Ivar? What will be Fionn's next steps? Theories?**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **Thanks for reading and I would like to leave a reference about weregild. :)**
> 
>  
> 
> [Weregild ](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Weregild#In_literature)(also spelled wergild, wergeld (in archaic/historical usage of English), weregeld, etc.), also known as man price, was a value placed on every being and piece of property, for example in the Frankish Salic Code. If property was stolen, or someone was injured or killed, the guilty person would have to pay weregild as restitution to the victim's family or to the owner of the property.
> 
> Weregild payment was an important legal mechanism in early Germanic society; the other common form of legal reparation at this time was blood revenge. The payment was typically made to the family or to the clan.  
> No distinction was made between murder and manslaughter until these distinctions were instituted by the re-introduction of Roman law in the 12th century.  
> Payment of the weregild was gradually replaced with capital punishment due to Christianization, starting around the 9th century, and almost entirely by the 12th century when weregild began to cease as a practice throughout the Holy Roman Empire
> 
> During the reign of Charlemagne his missi dominici required three times the regular weregild should they be killed whilst on a mission from the king.
> 
> In 9th century Mercian law a regular freeman (churl) was worth 200 shillings (twyhyndeman), and a nobleman was worth 1,200 (twelfhyndeman), a division established enough that two centuries later a charter of King Cnut's would simply refer to "all his people - the twelve-hundreders and the two-hundreders". The law code even mentions the weregeld for a king, at 30,000 thrymsas, composed of 15,000 for the man, paid to the royal family, and 15,000 for the kingship, paid to the people. An archbishop or nobleman is likewise valued at 15,000 thrymsas. The weregild for a Welshman was 220 shillings if he owned at least one hide of land and was able to pay the king's tribute. If he has only 1 hide and cannot pay the tribute, his wergild was 80 shillings and then 70 if he was landless yet free.
> 
> Thralls and slaves legally commanded no weregild, but it was commonplace to make a nominal payment in the case of a thrall and the value of the slave in such a case. Technically this amount cannot be called a weregild, because it was more akin to a reimbursement to the owner for lost or damaged property.


	9. Nightmares and Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fionnuala deals with the consequences of Erik' s death as Ivar tries to earn her forgiveness.

* * *

 

 

 

It was impossible for Fionnuala to answer why she couldn't dive into the ocean after recovering her skin. She was holding the sealskin in her hands, gazing longingly at the ocean but still unable to reclaim her identity. The calling was strong and she thought that would explain why the tears wouldn't stop streaming down her cheeks. But there was another call. This one was making her nipples leak something precious. Something that meant life for another being Fionnuala loved fiercely.

 

_Astrid will take care of him! She promised me._

 

Fionnuala started sobbing, her mind filled with images of Erik swinging his hammer and charging against them.

 

_What can Astrid do to protect my child if Ivar wants to harm Ragnald? What will she be able to do if Ivar’s neglect puts my son in danger once more? I'm the only who can protect my baby._

 

Fionnuala wondered how would Ivar react after realizing she was gone. She feared he would hurt the child to punish her. Her stomach was tightening while Fionnuala imagined her child enduring the pain Ivar was capable to inflict when anyone dared to oppose or defy him.

 

Fionnuala felt her hands trembling and the pain in her chest was so intense as if her ribs were opening up. Belonging half to the sea and half to the land and forever longing for something she couldn't achieve. A cursed woman. Morven was right – Selkies were tragic creatures.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I may die by the hands of your husband, but it will be a sweet death for he will know who took everything from him,” Erik yelled, walking slowly to Fionnuala. She could see his grip on the hammer was not so strong. Her hope was that he would drop the weapon, allowing her to run with Ragnald in her arms.

 

“You don't need to harm us. We are suffering as much as you are with Ivar's actions.” Fionnuala tried to convince Erik of how absurd was his intention. She felt his heart was not fully engaged in the mission. He stopped in his tracks. His trembling hands were caused by more than the mead she could smell even from that distance.

 

His eyes looked glassy. His speech was slightly slurred when he said, "C-can you imagine how much Ivar will suffer knowing that his family was murdered because of him? He will never forget!” Erik stumbled and almost fell. Fionnuala looked around as if someone would appear to save her child. There was no one. Ragnald could rely only on his mother.

 

Fionnuala turned to run, but Erik grabbed her hair and threw her to the ground. Fionnuala couldn't scream for help. The air was sucked out from her lungs. The fall was so fast and sudden that all she could do was to look into Erik’s eyes hovering above her. Ragnald had fallen a few meters away and was crying loud. Fionnuala worried he was hurt even protected by the linens and furs.

 

The thought of her child injured by the man staring at her thoughtfully was enough to make her kick his crotch and scratch his face as Fionnuala let out a high pitched scream. Erik cursed in pain, his expression was dark, his gaze inscrutable as he secured her wrist against the ground, “Stay down, damned woman!”

 

His breath washed over her face and Fionnuala tried to look away in disgust, “You're so beautiful…” Erik said slowly, letting his eyes linger on her lips for the briefest moment before meeting her gaze, “He doesn't deserve you.”

 

Her head was still dizzy by the impact of the fall, but she saw Erik being dragged away and listened to Morven shrieking. Fionnuala crawled to where Ragnald was, taking the crying baby in her arms and offering him the breast after having checked he was not apparently injured.

 

Her eyes were focused on her son's face, but she couldn't avoid listening to Erik’s agonizing screams. Fionnuala glanced at Morven and shuddered with the vision of the mermaid digging her nails as sharp as blades into the man's chest, ripping off his still beating heart. Erik stopped howling his agony then. Morven trembled in delighted anticipation and brought the organ to her lips, licking it slowly. Morven let out a groan of sheer delight and dug her teeth into the heart, savoring the blood that dripped from her lips.

 

“Save his head for me!” Fionnuala shouted, looking up from Ragnald to Morven’s bloody face. The mermaid stopped eating, staring at Fionnuala in amazement.

 

“That's new! I never thought you would want a taste,” Morven laughed, throwing her head back. Fionnuala watched the blood streaming down Morven’s chin and covering her breasts, “His blood is still so warm, Fionnuala. Come and feast with me.” Fionnuala trembled as Morven licked her lips and leaned down to take another bite.

 

 

* * *

 

 

She woke up with cold sweat running down her spine and tears flowing from her eyes. Fionnuala sat on the bed and her heartbeat only slowed down when she saw Ragnald sleeping peacefully by her side.

 

“What's wrong, my love?” That honeyed voice made Fionnuala curl her fingers into fists.

 

“That blood is not only in my hands, Ivar!” she hissed through clenched teeth and flinched when he tried to touch her shoulder.

 

“It's over now!” Ivar recoiled his hand, whispering shyly. Fionnuala grimaced at him.

 

“It's not that simple. We could be dead because of you.” She shouted, scaring Ivar with the feral scowl that dominated her once kind features. Ragnald squirmed on his sleep but didn't wake up.

 

“I regret it!” Ivar looked down to their son and back at Fionnuala.

 

“I can't forgive you!” She whimpered and Ivar tried to pull her into his arms. Fionnuala pushed against his chest, making his jaw drop.

 

“For how long will you treat me this way? I'm your husband.” Ivar stared at her and Fionnuala grinned with mischief.

 

“Always! And don't even think you can force me. Do you remember what happened to Erik, don't you?” Fionnuala turned her back to Ivar, snuggling against Ragnald's hair.

 

She could understand Morven now. Fionnuala imagined part of the mermaid’s satisfaction had nothing to do with blood and flesh, but with fear. Morven fed not only from their flesh and bones but from their agony. Seeing Ivar looking at her with primal fear warmed her whole body more than when he pretended to love her and she believed him. She suddenly felt stronger.


	10. The Seals Don't Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Years passed and Fionnuala must make a decision while Ragnald and Ivar try to understand the secrets of the ocean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for everyone who supported and commented on this story. Especially Laure (Lauredessine) who lent me her fabulous mermaid, Morven! I'm grateful for all the love!
> 
> I'm sorry that it's coming to an ending, but I hope you all will understand me. Unfortunately, I don’t have the energy to manage so many fanfics and I feel like Ebb Tide is the one I have to finish. Of course, for some of you, it might feel rushed and with gaps, but I feel it’s time to let go. It doesn’t mean I can’t go back to fill those gaps, write deleted scenes, headcanons, one-shots, spin-off…

* * *

They always knew where to find her. She was always standing by the shore, staring longingly at the sea as the sun was setting and painting the horizon with vivid shades of golden and orange.

“Mama! Mama! I defeated father in _tafl_. You should have seen his face,” Ragnald shouted, running to Fionnuala.

“I'm so proud of you,” Fionnuala knelt, wrapping her son in her arms and kissing his hair to muffle the sob that threatened to slip from her constricted throat. She was not sure if her arms were becoming weak or if Ragnald was becoming too heavy and tall to be carried. 

_Soon he will be a man and a man doesn’t need his mother._ The thought should bring her relief because it meant her freedom was within her reach the more Ivar and Ragnald became close. Yet, Fionnuala feared the man her son was destined to be having Ivar for a father. She knew nothing could make her love him less than she did now.

She might not be able to carry him in her arms, but Fionnuala knew he would always be cradled in her heart.

“You found her,” Ivar approached, sweat running down his forehead. Fionnuala noticed he stopped, his chest moving with every deep breath.

_He must have thought I escaped_. Fionnuala grinned at the thought.

Part of her was pleased he couldn't find her easily. Maybe it was the part that wished their life could have been different and that hidden part made her wonder, from time to time, if Ivar would miss her once she was gone.

“It's time to eat, Mođir. We came to call you,” Fionnuala stared at Ivar, eyebrows furrowing with skepticism he was worried about her not eating. Ragnald looked from her to Ivar, feeling the underlying tension and trying to think about a way to make them talk about something more than ruling the Kingdom and their household.

“We have herring tonight. You should have seen how big it was, Mođir.” Ragnald stretched his arms, trying to show Fionnuala the size of the fish captured that day. She beamed at him, wishing he could see all the wonders she knew from the depth sea.

“We should go then,” Fionnuala sighed and watched as Ragnald led the way with his childish excitement.

“Would you believe me if I said that I loved you?” Ivar noticed Fionnuala looked serene and the fact he felt she was not dismissing him, as she usually did whenever he tried to talk to her in private, gave him the courage to proceed.

She walked by Ivar's side, noticing he was wincing and grunting more than he usually did when moving with his crutches. Fionnuala couldn’t find pleasure in his pain.

“Would you believe me if I said that I still love you?” Ivar swallowed while Fionnuala stared at him in silence as if she were remembering all the moments they shared since that first day at the lake.

“I believe you tried,” Listening to her not hesitating was painful, but still not surprising.

Ivar knew Fionnuala had surpassed the ambivalence of feelings for him a few years before. Now they were living in a cold indifference the force of habit helped to settle. When rage was still boiling inside of her, Ivar hoped he could eventually conquer her again, but he did something that tasted bitter in his mouth. Ivar decided to do something that in his eyes was worse than defeat. He gave up.

Ivar gave up a little each day. He embraced the defeat when every word and pledge fell on deaf ears. He renounced his desire for Fionnuala when every new bed slave was pampered instead of punished by her as if they should be pitied instead of hated. Ivar knew he was defeated when every attempt to inflame her passion felt like touching a corpse and Ivar was forced to turn his back and sleep frustrated. He couldn't ignore Fionnuala acted like a walking corpse. Only eating the necessary to survive as soon as Ragnald left her breast, only smiling when their son was around and her eyes only shining with unshed tears as she stared at the sea every day.

Witnessing her determination tormented him in a way Ivar doubted anyone else would be able to. He had to admit her strength was admirable but being aware her walls were built to keep him exiled from the sweetness he knew was reserved to others never ceased to make the beast within him stir and growl to break free. The only cage that kept his fury at her rejection restrained was the certainty she would not go. The chain that kept her tied to him was as frail as a sealskin.

“We were happy once. Do you remember?” Ivar felt his stomach tightening under her scrutiny but saw her silence as an encouragement to proceed. He shifted closer, wincing due to the effort to balance his weight on his crutches, “We can be happy again.”

_Why can't things be as in the beginning?_

“Were you happy while I was miserable?” Ivar gulped, taken aback by her words, “I remember being afraid and I don’t want to feel that way ever again. I'm not that woman you could scare and order anymore. I can't be that woman…”

Ivar stuttered, interrupting her, “I’m… I just… I didn't know any better. Now I understand,”

“You can't understand things can't be the way they were before because we are not the same,” Fionnuala whispered, afraid Ragnald would listen.

“I can love the woman you turned into,” Ivar stopped, inhaling deep and Fionnuala waited for him to catch his breath.

“What can I do for a new chance?” 

“Don't you think we were doomed from the start? Have you ever asked yourself what I wanted, what I needed? What was precious to me? What is still precious to me?” Fionnuala turned to look at him expectantly, but he couldn't bring himself to pronounce the words. He needed her by his side and Ivar thought that was love.

* * *

Fionnuala missed bathing with Ragnald. It was a moment she hoped it would be seared into his memory as much as into hers. Holding his warm body against her skin and nursing him surrounded by water was the closest she would ever be to unveil the truth before the innocent eyes that knew nothing of the sorrows of men's world.

“Come, Mođir!” Ragnald giggled, swimming closer to where she was standing and startling Fionnuala from her memories.

“I can't dive into the water with you, my love!” Fionnuala replied, feeling her throat tightening at the thought she wouldn't be able to stay if the salty water touched her skin.

_He still needs me!_ Fionnuala smiled and waved at her son, wishing he wouldn't see the tears running down her cheeks.

She nodded to the familiar figure who was watching them with a smirk from the rocks.

* * *

Ivar had almost forgotten where it was hidden the key for her freedom. Maybe he deluded himself with the thought he would never have to go back to that spot and dig to retrieve her pelt.

His hands trembled, and a chill ran down his spine when he found the box empty. For a moment he thought someone stole the pelt, and while the idea of anyone else possessing something of Fionnuala made his blood boil, it could be the perfect argument for Fionnuala to see he meant to free her, but now it was impossible. The Norns once again weaving their destinies together. She would see and accept that at last.

_Unless she had already accepted it._

His triumphant smile faded into a slight grimace while he pulled himself up on his crutches, readjusting his grip on them before he walked back to the house.

* * *

“My love?” Fionnuala gulped, listening to the long-forgotten tenderness in his voice. It was a long time since he stopped trying to call her love. She let out a heavy sigh, trying to regain her composure.

She frowned at him from over her shoulder and couldn’t understand why he seemed so happy, leaning half of his weight onto his crutches and the rest on the doorway.

“What do you want, Ivar?” She snapped at him, certain that it would be enough to send him away, maybe in search of some young slave to warm his bed and take out his frustration on.

“Why? Why are you still here?” Ivar glanced around as servants and slaves continued to walk past them. He shifted closer and the sound of his crutches echoed in the room despite the murmuring around them. He winced, readjusting his grip on the crutches before hunching lower toward Fionnuala. Their faces were a measly few inches apart as he stared at her, noses almost touching.

“You could have gone if you wanted to,” He asked quietly. “You don’t want to go, do you?”

It was so rare of Ivar to seem so hopeful, Fionnuala could hardly meet his eyes without feeling her jaw trembling.

_He knows._

“What are you talking about?” Fionnuala couldn’t help but change the subject until she could think about a way around his discovery.

_Why did he dig out that chest after all those years?_

“It is no longer there, and I believe you know why,” Ivar smirked at her and Fionnuala felt cold sweat running down her spine. She didn’t know what could be more dangerous. Ivar believing she wanted to stay because of him or if he felt threatened because she intended to leave one day. She should choose her words carefully.

“You’re crazy,” She sneered at him, turning to sit by the hearth. Ivar followed, helping himself to a seat next to Fionnuala and propped his crutches against the chair.

“I know the skin is with you,” Ivar accused, leaning forward to place his hand on her thigh, “What can I say to set you free?”

Fionnuala snapped through gritted teeth, “My freedom is not yours to give,”

Ivar’s gaze hardened, his lips pressed into a thin line as he leaned back in his chair. “Then why are you still here if it’s _your_ wish _and_ choice to leave?” Fionnuala could hear the impatience in his voice as he pronounced the words slowly as if talking to a child.

“I can’t leave my child…”

“That’s it,” Ivar tipped his head back, closing his eyes and inhaling deep. Fionnuala couldn’t remember the last time she cried in front of Ivar, but she couldn’t hold back the tears that were now streaming down her cheeks.

“Ragnald is the only one holding you to the land,” Ivar opened his eyes, gasping at the sight of her tears, “The only thing tying us… and you _still_ think I could harm our son.” His face twisted into a terrible grimace as his eyes reddened and grew shiny with unshed tears.

_Not intentionally_. Fionnuala thought when a strangled sob left her trembling lips. Her throat was tightening, and she wished to have words of consolation to the man that brought both pain and happiness to her life.

“I can’t give your freedom, but I can give you my word I’ll be a better father. I promise you that I’ll love him better than I loved you.” His chest heaved with a quiet sob, and tears welled up behind his eyelids, slipping down his cheeks without resistance.

“Can you forgive me?” Ivar whimpered, and another sob wracked him, followed by a thin wail and Fionnuala stumbled over to him. He clutched her tightly around the waist and burst into loud, blubbering sobs. 

“All is forgiven, Ivar. I thought I could change you too.” Fionnuala ran her fingers through his hair until he stopped shaking. 

* * *

Fionnuala feared she wouldn't be able to go if Ragnald was awake. _Will he understand? Will he hate me?_

“I must leave you, my love. I must go,” Fionnuala confessed in a whisper, feeling her body trembling with the strangled sobs that threatened to leave her mouth and wake her son. His face was bathed by the candlelight and Fionnuala smiled sadly, running her fingers through his curly, dark hair and trying to retain every detail for when she was gone. The jaw as sharp as his father’s now that he was leaving childhood behind, the plump lips, the softness of his brown skin.

“Mama?” Ragnald murmured, rubbing his eyes and sitting on the bed.

“Mama is going home. I must go now. I'm sorry,” She wrapped her arms around him, kissing his hair and trying to swallow the lump in her throat for his sake one last time. Ragnald was only dimly awake but he felt his mother was suffering.

“Mama? Where are you going?” Ragnald muttered, clinging to her as tears and exhaustion blurred his sight.

“I love you… but… the sea calls me and I long to be myself again. You don't understand now. Maybe you never will, but I can't remain here,” Fionnuala feared her son would think he was responsible for her imminent departure. She needed to reassure him her melancholy was not his fault.

“You're not happy here,” Fionnuala gasped and pulled away to look into his eyes, astonished by the wisdom his words carried. She could have never guessed she had failed to hide her sadness from him.

“No… I'm not happy,” Fionnuala wished she had something else to say but her son deserved the truth. No matter how painful it was.

Ragnald let out a long sigh and embraced Fionnuala.

“One day you will know why you're so happy playing in the waves and listening to the ocean's songs,” Fionnuala stammered against his hair, inhaling deep in his scent.

“Can we go with you, Mama? Fađir and I?” Ragnald begged as his body trembled in her arms. Fionnuala felt as if a fist of guilt was squeezing her throat and breathing or speaking became impossible for a moment.

_I'm as cruel as Ivar banishing my only child. I condemned him!_

Fionnuala knew how heavy the burden she gave him through her blood was. As much as she wanted Ragnald to remember her, Fionnuala dreaded he would feel like an exiled among the humans who would never be able to understand him. If the price for his happiness was Ragnald burying any trace of her existence into the depths of his mind, Fionnuala was willing to pay.

_Maybe the gift I gave him is not a curse. The tides will obey his command and his ships will sail in peace and always reach the destination._

“Can I go with you, Mama?” Ragnald implored once more, looking from her eyes to the soft pelt he finally realized she was holding tightly.

“No! You can't go with me because you are not of the seal folk… not entirely,” Ragnald tilted his head to stare at her and wiped away his tears.

“You know I love you, don't you?” Ragnald nodded and Fionnuala smiled, “Never doubt my love for you. I beg you. And if… if you need me, you can talk to the waves and I'll come for you. Always.”

Fionnuala curled herself around Ragnald, running her fingers through his dark hair and singing his favorite lullaby.

Ivar thought a woman made of water could never crack, but he saw tears streaming down her face when she held Ragnald against her chest, humming to him another of her songs in that sorrow-filled tone one last time until he drifted into unconsciousness once more.

* * *

Before they could walk out of the door, Astrid cleared her throat, stepping out from the shadows, "Were you leaving without so much as a goodbye?

“I-I…” Fionnuala didn’t know if she could endure another farewell.

“Be happy. Ragnald will be safe.” Astrid shifted closer, wrapping her arms around Fionnuala.

“You’re going home. I know.” Astrid promised, kissing her hair.

Fionnuala pulled away to look at Astrid, stammering in doubt, “How?”

“You’re not the first of your kind that I’ve met.” Astrid cupped her face, rubbing her thumbs across Fionnuala’s cheeks to wipe away the tears.

“And I doubt you will be the last one.” Astrid smiled sadly.

* * *

Fionnuala knew the weight of freedom now that she had felt love. she thought she had loved Ivar even if her flesh no longer found him familiar. She would always love Ragnald even if she could no longer touch him.

Walking along the shore with Ivar, Fionnuala remembered the days she has wanted to set the stronghold on fire and watch the blazing flames destroying everything he built with terror, blood and tears. And the days she imagined herself walking back to the burning house, hoping the wind could carry her ashes to the ocean.

Fionnuala closed her eyes, listening to the wind whistling in her ears and caressing her face. The waves gently came to kiss the shore and she felt a shiver running down her spine when the water touched her feet. The ocean was welcoming her back and she opened her mouth to sing the ancient and long-forgotten language of the waves.

The full moon was shining as brightly as when Ivar robbed her of choice and he remembered how afraid she was at that time. Now, he was enthralled by the peaceful smile on her lips as she undressed of the human clothes that had always felt like a cage for skin which had known only sand and sea foam.

The seals came and cried like children in the waves. Ivar couldn’t recall the last time he has seen a seal. They silently stared at each other, feeling that’s how it should end. There was nothing more to say.

Fionnuala draped the pelt around her shoulders, as she dove into the water and disappeared under the calm waves of the sea. His eyes were blurred with tears and Ivar thought he had seen a green tail spattering water.


End file.
